Primary: the rise of Esplin 9466
by Salad Shooter
Summary: Everything you ever loved about Animorphs, but on the Yeerk side: A group of friends with very distinct personalities are thrust into an interstellar war at way too young of an age, and it eventually threatens to destroy them all ...
1. The Beginning of Everything

_(Disclaimer: I don't own Animorphs, obviously, and I don't own the image of Visser Three that I incorporated into the image for this story. These are the property of Scholastic/K.A. Applegate.)_

* * *

The Yeerk was aware.

Aware of motion, currents, ripples, of the waves that buoyed and buffeted him. Aware of the rich panorama of smells that reached his palps.

Instinct drove him to emit a series of high-pitched squeaks, sounds that ricocheted off the hundreds of bodies in his vicinity before traveling back to him with their wealth of information. Instinct also told him that each of the endless multitude of shapes was a member of his own kind.

And instinct drove him to connect, stretching out his palps toward the nearest echolocated silhouette, the nearest source of organic scent.

They touched, warm slippery palp to palp, and the neural signals began to transmit.

It was the Yeerk's own reflection, an extension of himself, familiar in every way, and yet still a different being entirely. The absorbent, questing newborn mind was similar to his own. Instinct again informed him of the other Yeerk's significance, for this was his own twin, his complementary half, they had come into the world together, one grub split in two. For a moment the twins lingered, basking in joyful recognition of one another.

Then, having satisfied their curiosities for now, they broke the connection. Driven to explore once more, they each set off in a different direction.

The newborn Yeerk quickly found another to associate with. Familiar with the process now, he eagerly stretched forth his palps. This Yeerk was different. Smelled different. Not as familiar as the last one. Not a genetic relation. But young also, almost as young as the newborn himself.

The other Yeerk emitted a series of squeaks, not echolocation squeaks, these were new sounds, much more varied in rhythm and pitch. The newborn Yeerk was startled, confused.

Through the palp connection a vague thought transferred, an idea, an intimation of something about to happen, something important and inevitable.

Then the connection was again broken, and new palps joined with the newborn's. Larger palps. Rougher palps. And, the newborn began to realize, _older_ palps. Then the thoughts came pouring through the connection, rapidly filling the newborn's mind as he struggled to make sense of all the new information.

Knowledge. So much knowledge. About his species. Their biology, their history, their culture, their politics. A context for when and where he was in the universe. For his was no ordinary generation of Yeerks. They were the first to be born aboard ship, away from the homeworld, in artificial pools.

The first to be born into war.

But most importantly … the older Yeerk told him who _he_ was.

Esplin 9466 the primary twin.

* * *

After what seemed like ages, the older Yeerk broke the palp connection, and Esplin turned back to the Yeerk with whom he had been communing before, the one near his own age.

That Yeerk now squeaked again. "Are you able to understand me now? I am Tarak-Nine-Three-Seven-Five."

And Esplin realized that he did indeed understand. Speech! Not an instinct like his sonar, but something he had needed to learn from another Yeerk. But learned it he had — the knowledge of language itself had rushed into his mind along with everything else.

"I am Esplin-Nine-Four-Double-Six," he tried to say, but the squeaks came out all wrong, they were gibberish. He knew what they were supposed to sound like, but getting his voice to cooperate was another matter entirely.

It was Tarak's turn to be confused. "What?"

"Your speech will improve with practice," the older Yeerk reassured Esplin. "So will your ability to send clearly defined thoughts via palp-to-palp communication. Now where did that twin of yours get off to—oh, there he is—" and with that, he swam away.

* * *

"Brother!" Esplin exclaimed. He had practiced talking with Tarak until his speech had become mostly intelligible. But after all that time, he had begun to miss his twin, the one with whom he shared everything ... even a name.

"My brother," replied Esplin the secondary twin. "I have met another sibling of ours. This is Hekliss-Eight-Two-Seven-Five." He pointed with a palp to the Yeerk accompanying him, holding the gesture long enough to be picked up by his twin's next echolocation blast.

"I too have met another Yeerk. Not our sibling," said Esplin primary. "This is my friend Tarak-Nine-Three-Seven-Five."

Esplin and Hekliss touched palps. Yes, she was a sibling. The familial connection was strong, albeit not as strong as the twins'. Hekliss seemed to have a different temperament: she was calmer, more peaceful, more deeply aware than the twins. Esplin sensed that quality in her, and appreciated it — she would definitely be an asset to the group.

"Shall we seek out more companions?" Hekliss queried.

Esplin surveyed the other three Yeerks briefly. "I think four is a good number," he said. "Let us get to know one another more fully. We can always change our minds if we end up feeling incomplete as a quartet."

"Agreed," seconded his twin.

Tarak felt unsure—it seemed rather unbalanced, a group of three siblings plus one. He began to feel very much the outsider. But the Yeerk called Esplin had welcomed him without hesitation. Maybe this would work out.

And if not, well, they were young, having newly emerged into what was a wonderfully huge pool of possibility to them. There was plenty of time to figure out who they were and with whom they wanted to associate.

_Yes, _Tarak thought,_ there is no rush, _and he swam to catch up with his ready-made group of friends.


	2. Fun and Games

_Game #1_

Esplin skimmed along the surface of the pool. Every so often his back would crest above the rippling liquid, and he would briefly marvel at the alien sensation of cool, dry air.

He navigated a sea of floating gelatinous globules, almost but not entirely submerged in the pool. He knew what these were, of course. Yeerk pools on the homeworld were naturally stocked with all kinds of decaying organic matter, which filled the pool with nutrients essential to the Yeerks' long-term health. Esplin's artificial pool, however, required supplements in the form of these odd-looking globules. They slowly dissolved in the sludge and had to be replenished periodically by Gedds.

Esplin touched a globule experimentally with his palps. It was smooth and firm, with a strong but not unpleasant odor. He noted the way it hung just below the surface of the pool, and on impulse he tried to submerge it further using his entire body. It was not an easy task, as the globule slipped out easily from beneath his own slippery form, but Esplin enjoyed a challenge. He gradually learned how to curve his body around it to form a sort of upside-down bowl, keeping the globule in place as his own weight overcame the relentless buoyant force.

Having successfully contained the globule, he wondered how deep he could swim while holding on to it. He did not make it very far, but once again, he improved with practice: he learned how to wriggle himself downward, using only the tiniest movements so as to maintain his curved shape.

Tarak swam up to him. "What are you doing, friend?"

"Trying to see how far down I can swim with this thing."

Tarak regarded him skeptically, something that Esplin could not see but could still sense, for by now he knew Tarak and his mannerisms well.

"It's harder than it looks!" Esplin protested. "You try it."

Tarak threw his body over the globule, submerging it only momentarily before it popped to the surface again. It disrupted his sense of equilibrium so badly that he was flipped upside down.

Esplin laughed a Yeerkish laugh, a high, chittering sound beyond the hearing range of most other creatures. "What did I tell you? Now watch how far _I_ can go with it!"

He formed himself around the globule again — by this time he was doing it with ease — and inched down, down into the depths of the pool. Tarak swam after him partway, then stopped to watch.

Inevitably, though, Esplin finally lost control of the globule. It shot up toward the surface. Tarak decided to see if he could stop its ascent, throwing himself down on it from above. He failed, of course. But Tarak too was not one to shy away from a challenge. "Do it again!" he called to Esplin.

They repeated the routine a few times, switching roles frequently, until both had achieved a modicum of skill at the activity.

"We could make this a game!" Esplin realized. "I mean, a game that all four of us could play. One of us swims with the globule down as far as they can go, and then when the globule is released, the others try to catch it, to stop it from reaching the surface. And whoever catches it gets to be the next person to take it down."

"And if nobody succeeds, then the first person gets to go again!" Tarak added.

"Yes! That's good! Let's go tell the others."

It soon became one of their favorite games. Esplin was the best at it, of course; he tended to be the best at whatever they did, but that was mainly because he was simply the one who _cared_ about being the best, more than any of the others.

His friends found it easier to simply enjoy recreation for its own sake. It didn't bother them that Esplin tended to win most of time. It was Esplin himself who was occasionally bothered that the other three didn't seem to provide strong enough competition …

* * *

_Game #2_

Esplin was ready. He was beyond ready. The instant Tarak's palp touched his, he was gone.

"Go, Esplin!" Tarak squeaked excitedly.

It was a sort of relay race. Hekliss and Tarak had completed the first two legs; it was up to the Esplin twins to finish it out. They were competing against a different group of Yeerks, a group who happened to have six members; thus the extra two had been assigned to designate the starting and ending points.

Esplin shot through the pool, focused on nothing except his twin brother's palp ahead of him. So many times he had raced his three friends, building his strength and perfecting his swimming technique, that he had become the fastest of them all by far. Now he was acutely aware that his entire team's success primarily depended on him.

_Wham!_

A sudden impact disoriented Esplin and threw him off course. Confused, he fired a burst of echolocation, which revealed to him the silhouette of Carger 7901. One of his rivals.

_He just ran into me!_ Esplin realized.

Gathering his wits, he hurried toward his brother again, but already too much time had been lost. In the end, Carger's final teammate reached the finish point well ahead of Esplin the secondary twin.

"And that would be a win for us," Carger smirked.

"Let's do another race right now, Carger," Esplin challenged him. "Just you and me this time. We'll see who's the better swimmer. And just so you don't pull a stunt like what you just did, I am going to have my own friends line up with yours. _My_ path will start at Hekliss and end at Tarak—so go get into position, you two—and this way you shouldn't be going anywhere near me during the race." He turned to his twin. "And you, brother—watch Carger and his team and make sure they don't try anything. This should be a simple test of raw swimming speed. We don't want any _other_ factors to play into the outcome."

"Consider it done," Esplin the secondary said icily. "I have no patience for those who would ruin a fair competition."

"Do you really have to be so boring?" complained Korliss 7764, one of Carger's companions. "Why can't you appreciate the more … _creative_ ways of achieving victory?"

"If running headlong into other Yeerks is the extent of Carger's creativity, I am not impressed," Esplin countered. "He's only trying to conceal his pathetic lack of skill. Isn't that right, Carger?"

"You would like to think so," Carger shot back. "But I can still win without ramming into you. It just isn't as much fun for me."

"Then quit talking and prove it," retorted Esplin. "Brother, I'm ready. Give us the start signal."


	3. Eyes Open

_~Some Months Later~_

He gingerly stretched his palps into the tiny opening ahead. He had been given a detailed briefing about what was ahead, and of course he had heard the stories from those who had gone before, but this was it, this was the moment of truth.

He squeezed and squelched his way into the Gedd's ear. Slowly, bit by bit, he wriggled down the ear canal, compressed into a pencil-thin snake of slippery flesh. Never had he felt so confined, so restricted. The other Yeerks had said that taking over a Gedd's brain would open up a whole new world to him, but right now his world had contracted to this tiny, stifling tunnel. It was not pleasant.

The journey through the ear canal gave him too much time to wonder anxiously about what was ahead. As if he hadn't had enough opportunity to do that while he'd been in line with the others. Esplin did not take kindly to waiting even at the best of times, but now, combined with the potentially disturbing experience looming ahead of him, the long wait had severely jangled his nerves.

He slithered and slipped along, and just when he thought the Gedd's ear canal would never end—

Sudden electric sparks!

This was it!

Simultaneously relieved and terrified, Esplin stretched himself into nearly a flat membrane, sliding across the wrinkled surface of the Gedd's brain, settling down into the folds, possessing the brain, _becoming_ the brain.

And becoming, in turn, an awkwardly hunched, asymmetrical simian creature.

But to Esplin, this creature represented _power_. A firm bone structure, powerful muscles and sinews. Not as strong as those of a younger Gedd would be, but Esplin did not care. This creature, old and feeble to experienced Gedd-Controllers, was to him the epitome of physical potential. Arms! Legs! Hands with manipulative fingers!

And he was no longer worried. No longer afraid.

He was _ecstatic._

He was _joyful._

This was the best thing that had ever happened to him. None of his experiences as a lowly hostless Yeerk, little more than a slimy blob of goo, could ever compare. For now he was huge, he was strong, he could—he could _do_ things. He could _impact his environment_.

The Gedd's body—_his body_—was bent over the edge of the pier. Esplin lifted his head out of the pool, then dipped one of his new three-fingered hands back into the sludge. The viscous wetness, which was completely natural to him as a Yeerk, felt strange and oily to his Gedd fingers. Slick Yeerk bodies brushed by his skin.

He swished his hand around, and felt—was that?—yes, it was one of the nutrient globules he used to play with! To the Gedd, it was nothing more than a tiny bead. He fumbled at it for a moment, then managed to pick it up in a pincer grip, marveling at the relative dexterity of his fingers. He rolled it between his fingers experimentally, then dropped it. It made a tiny "plip" in the water. He picked it up again, this time setting it in the water more gently. So many things you could do with hands! If he wanted to, he could even wrap his fingers around one of his own people and lift them up out of the pool, into the air. And they would be unable to do anything about it!

He had no way of knowing which of the Yeerks in the pool was Tarak, or else he would definitely have tried it. But Gedds could not echolocate. Nor could they locate individual Yeerks by smell and feel.

But wait—

What—

What was this—

Oh. OH!

Here was a new sense entirely!

His body suddenly shot straight up (well, as straight as a Gedd can stand) as images assaulted his brain. _Visual_ images. With color and shadow and depth!

He forgot all about Tarak as he struggled to interpret the data. For the first time in his life, he was _seeing!_ With _eyes!_

Most species would call Gedds rather ugly creatures, but to Esplin, the other Gedd-Controllers were an amazingly captivating sight. Their beady yellow eyes … their short, matted fur … their webbed toes … all of it was a visual feast.

And then there was the ship itself! The light shining off its contoured walls created a stunningly beautiful effect. The rough mesh floor with sparse patches of dead grass was absolutely fascinating.

He looked back down at the pool. It was so … so nondescript, so unremarkable compared to the rest of the scenery. Dull gray sludge in a round, featureless container.

But wait! Movement!

A Yeerk, appearing and disappearing so swiftly Esplin had almost missed it. He marveled. So that was what he used to look like! For now he felt entirely unlike the small slick creatures in the pool. He could see! And he could pick up objects. And he could even walk with the Gedd's limping stride. And he could—

"Yourrrr time is rrr-up," said a nearby Gedd-Controller. "Rrr-please leave the trrraining host and rrreturrn to the pool."

—he could even speak _Galard_, if he wanted. Esplin moved the Gedd's jaw experimentally.

"Rrr. Rrr-yes. I will." Mouth-speech! One last marvel before he had to return to the pool.

Oh, but he did not want to leave the Gedd. Not then. Not ever.

The other Gedd was staring at him expectantly, however. So Esplin reluctantly knelt down and dipped the Gedd's ear into the liquid, then released his own Yeerk body's hold on the brain. He slithered out into the pool, his once-comfortable home, which now seemed dark and oppressive.

* * *

He fired a sonar blast. It was interesting to have this sense back after temporarily being without it. It had a similar function to sight—the ability to sense the shape and location of objects not in immediate contact with one's person—but it was nothing like the sheer pleasure of _seeing_ things in all their color and vibrancy. Sonar images were dull and uninteresting in comparison.

A familiar silhouette was showing up.

"Tarak!" cried Esplin. "That was the most incredible, the most amazing experience of my life!"

"What? Are you serious?" came the reply.

"Of course I'm serious, you ninny," Esplin said impatiently. "We just have to find a way to get hosts! All of us!"

"Are you _insane?_" asked Tarak, aghast. "It was frightening, it was wrong, it was not … Esplin, it's not where we belong. We belong here, in the pool. What could the world out there possibly hold for us?"

"Only everything!" Esplin protested. "Did you not see with the Gedd's eyes—see the light and shadow, the colors, the patterns? So much splendor, and we have been missing out!"

"I just thought it was disorienting and strange," Tarak admitted. "I'm glad it's over."

"Tarak-Nine-Three-Seven-Five. Sometimes I do not understand you," said Esplin, exasperated. There was nothing left to do but wait for his siblings to join them. Surely his genetic relatives' feelings would be more akin to his own.

* * *

To Esplin's great disappointment, however, Hekliss and Esplin the secondary were inclined to agree with Tarak. No one had relished the training experience like he had.

The other three sensed his frustration, and tried to reassure him. "I am not entirely opposed to taking a host body someday. I am sure I could learn to like it," Tarak said sensibly.

"We probably only found it unpleasant because it was so strange to us," Esplin the secondary pointed out. "Once we get used to having Gedd bodies, it will feel just as natural to us as swimming in our pool."

Esplin felt better. Of course. His friends simply took longer than he did to acclimate to new experiences. They always had. This was not a problem.

Now he just needed to figure out how to obtain a host of his own. The Yeerk who had briefed them had warned that only the most useful Yeerks would get hosts, and Esplin was determined to be the most useful. After all, wasn't he already the best at everything else?

He made up his mind to scour every last file in the Andalite computer, using the interface that had been built directly into the pool. The answer had to be in there somewhere.


	4. Carger Again

Esplin leaped about the transport ship in his new Hork-Bajir host body, thinking himself the luckiest Yeerk in the galaxy. A few Gedd-Controllers gave him odd looks. He didn't care.

This body. This incredible body! If being a Gedd made Yeerks seem slow and blind and useless, then being a Hork-Bajir made the Gedds seem equally slow and blind and useless. These strong, agile limbs and dexterous fingers far surpassed those of the clumsy, lumbering Gedds—Esplin had never before experienced such raw physical power! And the world as revealed by the Hork-Bajir's eyes was so vivid, so clear, so well-defined!

It was almost as good as having an Andalite body.

Almost.

For even just from running the simulations in the computer, Esplin knew that no experience could quite measure up to being a swift-running, four-legged, four-eyed Andalite.

As a hostless Yeerk, he had used the computer to learn everything he could about their Andalite enemies. He had swiftly become the most knowledgeable Yeerk about this enigmatic species. That's what had earned him the new host: Upon discovering the Hork-Bajir, the Yeerks had wanted to know whether the bodies would be able to match the Andalites in battle. Who better to ask than their very own Andalite specialist, Esplin 9466?

For the Hork-Bajir were quite formidable. Razor-sharp blades protruded from their arms and legs, while a row of spikes raked forward from their foreheads and two more spikes tipped their tails. The Andalites simply had a single large blade at the end of their tails, though they could do a lot of damage with that one blade. As the Yeerks had reason to know. However, Esplin had concluded that a Hork-Bajir should be able to take on an Andalite one-on-one, at least in theory.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Akdor 1154. "Rrr-what are you doing?"

Akdor was the de facto leading Controller aboard ship. The one who had initially led the Yeerks' revolt against the Andalites. The one who had interrogated Esplin about the Hork-Bajir's usefulness in the first place.

"I am determining the extent of this body's physical capabilities," Esplin said truthfully.

Akdor seemed satisfied. "We rrrrequest yourrr assistance with trraining the new Horrk-Bajir-Controllerrrs. Rrrreport to the supervisorrr over there."

* * *

The supervisor in question, a Hork-Bajir himself, immediately noticed Esplin's approach.

"Well, if it isn't my old friend Esplin-Nine-Four-Double-Six," he sneered. "They told me that _you_ were the first Hork-Bajir-Controller."

"I would know _that_ attitude anywhere," Esplin replied coolly. "You may have a new body, but I see you're still the same Carger-Seven-Nine-Zero-One. As arrogant and ill-mannered as ever."

"And you're still the same pretentious little fool," said Carger scornfully. "The one who can't understand that it doesn't matter how you win as long as you win."

"Well, it looks like I _did_ win where it counts," Esplin pointed out. "I was chosen to be the first Hork-Bajir-Controller because of my expertise on Andalites. I was the one best qualified to evaluate the effectiveness of these bodies in battle."

"Oh? And what have you been doing since then?"

"I have been … further exploring the capabilities of my Hork-Bajir host."

Carger smirked. "You really are a fool. The game doesn't end when you get a host body, Esplin. Haven't you heard? The Yeerk Empire is forming a hierarchy. There will be vissers who report to the Council of Thirteen, and sub-vissers who report to their vissers."

"I've heard such rumors. Your point is?"

"While you've been idling about, I've been helping Akdor—the new Visser One, mind you—figure out ways to capture the Hork-Bajir more efficiently. We are creating new Hork-Bajir-Controllers at a rapid rate. All thanks to me. Akdor has even been talking of making me a sub-visser."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, _really_," Carger mocked him. "You may be our clever little Andalite expert, but I don't see any Andalites here, do you? Akdor only gave you that host because he wanted to know whether Hork-Bajir could equal Andalites in combat. You gave him the answer he wanted. Your usefulness is over. _Mine_, however … is only beginning."

_Curse Carger and his endless ambition!_ Esplin fumed, furious at being one-upped so soon. Now he would have to find a new way to prove himself valuable to the Empire. He simply _had_ to achieve something important enough to earn him the rank of sub-visser … for to be outranked by Carger was nothing short of intolerable.


	5. Andalites!

"Esplin."

Esplin sighed. He did not want to deal with Carger right then. Unfortunately, the transport ship was not large enough for him to avoid encountering all of his fellow Hork-Bajir-Controllers on a daily basis. The Hork-Bajir planet loomed large in the nearby window, and Esplin idly wished for an excursion to the planet surface, if only to get away from Carger's obnoxious manner.

"Esplin," Carger repeated more sharply. He seemed unusually agitated, his typical swaggering overconfidence somewhat subdued. "Come with me."

"Why?" Esplin demanded.

"Don't ask questions, just come," came the brusque reply.

Esplin followed Carger toward the bridge, wondering what had happened.

Akdor met them at the docking area. "Rrr-we have just rrrrreceived an interrrcept coming from the surrrrface below." He threw them a telling look. "An rrr-_Andalite_ broadcast. Therrrre is an rrr-Andalite outpost on the planet."

Well! No wonder Carger had lost some of his cockiness. His dismissal of Esplin's practical worth rested solely on the fact that there were no Andalites around. And now that was no longer true.

"We believe there arrrre just fourrrr Andalites," Akdor continued. "They must be rrr-killed. Immediately, before they can discoverrrr ourrrr presence here."

"I will be honored to command the attack," Carger swiftly volunteered.

_Oh no you don't!_ Esplin thought fiercely. Andalites were _his_ specialty. He was not about to let Carger steal his opportunity for glory.

"No doubt you rrr-would," Akdor replied dryly. "But you are only going so that rrr-we can put those Hork-Bajirrrr bodies to use. We will attack from the rrr-Andalite fighter crrrraft. But if all four of the Andalites are not killed, you two will go after the survivorrrrs."

Esplin felt a churning sensation inside. Yes, he was the reigning expert on Andalites—and he knew exactly how formidable they were. For a moment he wondered whether he was up to the task.

But he quickly suppressed those doubts. He wanted to be a sub-visser, didn't he? This was the surest way. He would prove himself far more competent than Carger when it came to dealing with Andalites. Yes, this was _his_ chance to shine.

* * *

The Andalite fighter silently hung in the air above the Andalite dwelling, with Esplin, Carger, and two Gedd-Controllers aboard.

"Looking the wrong way," Carger mocked. "Look up, Andalite. Look up and see your death!"

The Gedds guffawed loudly.

"I see three Andalites, not four," Esplin pointed out.

Carger waved an arm dismissively. "The fourth is probably inside the scoop."

"No. Andalites never take shelter unless they must," Esplin insisted. "In the depth of a cold night, or to avoid harsh weather, or to fend off an attack. Or when they must serve aboard spacecraft. Andalites are creatures of the open spaces. They hate being confined in any way. They become nervous and afraid if they don't have large areas in which to run."

"You are quite the Andalite-lover, Esplin," Carger said suspiciously, taking a menacing step toward him.

Frightened, but determined not to show it, Esplin glared back at Carger.

"I will kill more Andalites if I know their habits," he growled.

"Shredderrrr powered," called the Gedd pilot. "Tarrrrget rrr-acquired."

"There are only three Andalites in view," Esplin protested. "Wait till the fourth one joins them."

"Wait?" Carger demanded. He hovered over Esplin intimidatingly. "Fool. Shoot!"

Esplin cringed. "No! The remaining Andalite will see the—"

"I said shoot!" screamed Carger, practically vibrating with rage. "That is a direct order from your sub-visser! Shoot! Kill them now!"

Seething, Esplin slammed his fist down on the controls.

TSEEEWWWW!

TSEEEWWWW!

The shredder beams lanced toward the Andalite scoop, culminating in an eruption of flames. Esplin fired again and again, gratuitously now—the first shot had been quite sufficient—but his wordless fury at Carger translated itself into the weapon's devastating effects.

Suddenly a shrill psychic scream filled their minds!

‹AAHHH! AAHHH! AAHHH!›

"It would appear," Esplin said smugly, "that we have just alerted the fourth Andalite to our presence."

"Take us down to the surface!" Carger ordered the pilot. He glared at Esplin. "Eliminating a lone Andalite will be simple enough."

"If you say so," was Esplin's noncommittal reply.

* * *

Carger and Esplin confidently approached their quarry. The Andalite appeared to be no more than a child, and a female at that—she was slight and graceful, her fur a deep periwinkle instead of the more masculine blue. Not a threat by Andalite standards, though still equipped with that lethal tail blade.

But Esplin was in no hurry to see her die. Why should he eliminate her and let Carger take the credit?

Instead, he attacked the lumbering Hork-Bajir beside her. If the Andalite child should escape, he could easily blame Carger's stupidity.

The Hork-Bajir stared dumbly, his chest gaping from Esplin's strike. "Why did you—"

But Esplin was already slashing at him again, his blades whirling. The Hork-Bajir stumbled backward.

"Forget him, get the Andalite!" Carger shrieked, taking a flying leap at the Andalite girl.

"What?" said the Hork-Bajir Esplin had wounded, still staring stupidly at him.

Esplin stared back, bewildered. He knew that Hork-Bajir were not accustomed to fighting, of course. Still, how long would it take for this one to figure out how to defend himself?

"Ignore the stupid one," Carger yelled in exasperation, "help me get the Andalite! She cut me!"

_Poor you,_ thought Esplin thought scornfully, noting the deep cut in Carger's chest with a grim sense of satisfaction. He decided it was probably time to help him out. After all, Carger was ostensibly a sub-visser, and Esplin wasn't sure how much insubordination he could get away with.

Blades flashed. The Andalite's tail whipped. The two Controllers circled her, edging ever closer, backing her against the trunk of one of the Hork-Bajir planet's immense trees.

Then all at once, they both leaped!

"Die, Andalite filth!" Carger roared.

‹Raaaagghhh!› raged the Andalite. Her amber eyes shone with terror.

_Ssslash!_

Sudden agony!

Esplin dropped like a stone. His arms twitched. His legs—it was as if they were no longer even there! All sensation stopped abruptly at the level of his chest.

It was the stupid Hork-Bajir! Apparently Esplin should have kept a closer eye on him, for it was _his_ blade that had slashed into Esplin's spinal cord and severed it neatly, paralyzing his lower body. He could barely move!

His attacker advanced toward Carger, who stumbled backward, then turned and fled.

"Carger, you coward!" Esplin screamed, enraged.

The young Andalite leaned over him menacingly.

‹Whatever your name is, Yeerk, go tell your masters: First your treason destroyed my father, and then you murdered him and my entire family. But you will not have this planet,› she hissed, her eyes burning with a deep loathing that somehow seemed out of place on such a young face. ‹We are the Andalites, you parasite worm. And we'll see you all dead. You and your entire filthy race. Tell your masters that.›

The pain momentarily dropped out of Esplin's awareness, for this was his first time seeing an Andalite up close, in the flesh! And this particular Andalite … her small size, the dainty way she carried herself … it was all enormously deceptive.

She was dangerous.

She was deadly.

She was _fascinating_.

He couldn't help but stare at her in wonder.

‹The daughter of Seerow will show you the other side of the Andalite character,› she added.

She leaped away from him and began galloping swiftly through the trees, with her Hork-Bajir companion loping along after her.


	6. In and Out of the Pool

With the Andalite gone, Esplin was once again acutely aware of how much pain he was in. There was no way to escape it, not without detaching from his Hork-Bajir host entirely. And that seemed foolish at this point. What if the Andalite changed her mind and came back intent on destroying him?

Of course, at this point he wouldn't be able to do much to stop her, even if he did remain inside the Hork-Bajir.

Still, if it came to that, he would at least see the end coming.

A sharp tree root dug into his upper back. And of course, he was unable to shift into a more comfortable position. He sighed.

He wasn't sure which was worse, the pain or the helplessness. So awesome it had been to experience the powerful Hork-Bajir body, and now that body was rendered unusable, more helpless than a hostless Yeerk away from the pool.

The night was quiet, though there had been a flurry of activity at first. After landing the fighter, the Gedd pilot and his partner had apparently joined Carger in pursuit of the Andalite. It seemed that Carger was afraid of fighting the Andalite alone. Esplin would have to mock him about that later.

Later.

How much later?

How long would he have to wait here in the dark, alone, barely able to move?

Would he be left out here all night?

Now that he thought about it … he wouldn't put it past Carger to say that Esplin had been killed in battle, so no one would bother to come looking. He fervently hoped that wasn't the case.

How much time had passed? Was it past midnight? Was it early morning already?

Or had he been lying here for only fifteen minutes? Had it only _seemed_ like an eternity since the Gedds ran off into the forest?

Would the agony in his back _ever_ subside? He got the point—his Hork-Bajir body was significantly damaged. _Why_ did its nervous system have to continually remind him of the fact?

For once, he wished he was back in the Yeerk pool. Of course, he did not want to go back there permanently—he wanted a new, functioning Hork-Bajir host. But being a blind, half-deaf swimmer would be infinitely better than his current situation. Besides, in the dark, the Hork-Bajir was mostly blind anyway.

To take his mind off his predicament, Esplin started viewing his host's memories, of climbing trees, of stripping bark, of telling stories around the fire … but they were diverting only for a little while. The life of a Hork-Bajir simply was not very complex or interesting.

* * *

Dawn was just beginning to filter through the trees when Esplin finally heard the sound of a fighter sweeping low overhead. He peered through the shadows as the fighter landed and discharged a couple of Gedds.

"Over here!" Esplin yelled hoarsely, his voice weak from being unused. "I'm over HERE!" He tried to wave his arms, but could do little more than twitch—and even that was difficult, given how stiff he was from lying there so long.

The Gedds rushed over to him.

"Rrr-which one arrrre you?" one demanded.

"Esplin."

"Wherrrrre is Cargerrr?"

"He ran away," Esplin said curtly. "And I hope you will help _me_ before wasting any more time looking for that spineless fool." A distant part of his mind noted the irony inherent in the term _spineless;_ he ignored it.

One Gedd hooked his three-fingered hands around Esplin's upper arms. The other grabbed his ankles, being careful to avoid the blades, and it was eerie the way Esplin did not feel this at all. The obvious disconnect between what his eyes saw and what his body felt was highly disturbing to him.

The Gedds dragged him aboard the fighter and lifted off. They did not speak to him much on the journey, and it was probably just as well, for Esplin was exhausted and his back was in agony and just about everything was irritating him at this point. He very likely would have verbally lashed out at his own rescuers—not a very smart thing to do, since they could easily resume their search for Carger and forget about him for the time being. So he welcomed the silence.

They docked with the transport ship and carried him over to his home pool. Akdor was there waiting.

"Rrr-you arrrre to leave this rrr-host and rrrreport immediately to the computerrr interface," Akdor ordered.

Esplin stared blearily at him. "When will I have a host again?"

"When we rrr-have a sparrrre one rrravailable."

That wasn't really an answer, but Esplin was in no condition to protest. He reluctantly slipped back into the Yeerk pool.

What awaited him at the computer was a thorough grilling. The Yeerks wanted to know exactly what had happened with the Andalites, with Carger, whether anyone else had survived, and whether the remaining Andalite still posed a danger, despite the fact that Esplin could not reliably answer most of their questions. He was thoroughly peeved. As if it wasn't enough to have lain paralyzed on a tree root all night long, alone, bored, in pain … now they had to torment him with a largely pointless interrogation?

At long last, they released him to swim freely about the pool. He initially thought of looking for Tarak and his companion-siblings, but decided against it. They would expect him to play with them, to be the same Yeerk he had been before becoming a Hork-Bajir-Controller, and he simply _wasn't_. Now that he had tasted the power and joy of a permanent host body, he would not be satisfied until he had one once again. And his friends simply wouldn't understand that.

* * *

Esplin 9466 the secondary twin pored through the computer files.

His brother had been away from the pool for several days now, and Esplin secondary had been feeling oddly incomplete. The longest time the twins had ever been separated were the thirty minutes it took for each of them to train with the Gedd host. Even all the time Esplin primary had spent at the computer hadn't kept them apart for longer than that at a time.

But now, with him gone for the long term, the pool felt empty and wrong. And Esplin secondary had begun to wonder what it would be like to obtain _his_ own host, to join his brother in the outside world.

His questions had drawn him to the Andalite computer as well. His twin's path to becoming a Controller had begun there; surely he could be similarly successful.

On a whim, Esplin pulled up the document that recorded when each Yeerk would be getting a host body. Now that they had found a suitable host species, every Yeerk in the pool was listed, though some were obviously higher priority than others.

Esplin did not expect to see himself anywhere near the top of the list—and yet there he was, the third name down! Intrigued, he opened the associated biographical file.

DESIGNATION: ESPLIN 9466

HOME POOL: HAK REPLIN

GENERATION: 686

STATUS: AWAITING HOST (HAK REPLIN)

NOTABLE TRAITS: KNOWLEDGE – ANDALITES

REMARKS:

HOST DESTROYED IN BATTLE

AWAITING REPLACEMENT

So this was his _brother's_ profile. Apparently Esplin the primary was back in the Yeerk pool! He wondered why he hadn't heard from him. Yes, the pool contained thousands upon thousands of Yeerks, but a simple palp-to-palp transmission could usually find someone quickly enough.

Right then, however, Esplin secondary had other things on his mind. Like finding his own profile. He ran a search function, and there he was:

DESIGNATION: ESPLIN 9466-2

HOME POOL: HAK REPLIN

GENERATION: 686

STATUS: AWAITING HOST (HAK REPLIN)

NOTABLE TRAITS: NONE

REMARKS: NONE

_None?_

This significantly bothered Esplin.

Intellectually, he knew it shouldn't. Out of all the Yeerks in the pool, probably upwards of ninety percent hadn't drawn their superiors' attention for any reason. Hekliss and Tarak's profiles probably read similarly, for example.

And yet.

And yet he couldn't help noticing the contrast between Esplin 9466, Andalite expert, marked as deserving of a host … and himself, listed only as Esplin 9466-2, with nothing special to add.

It wasn't Esplin the primary's fault, of course. The Yeerks assigned designations to Yeerks in their grub stage, before they grew into live, mobile Yeerks who were much more difficult to track. Should one of those grubs split into twins, both were given the original designation. Thus the grub marked as Esplin 9466 had split into two individual Yeerks, who had subsequently been differentiated only as primary and secondary.

And yet—the computer records made it seem like only one of those twins mattered. Like his brother was the true Esplin 9466, and he himself was only Esplin 9466-2, an afterthought, an addendum.

_That's not fair,_ thought Esplin secondary. _I may not be my brother, but that doesn't mean I'm not important._

He realized he could no longer afford to be complacent about his lack of a host. He needed to distinguish himself somehow, to prove he was a worthy Yeerk in his own right, that he was more than simply an extra dash-two.

But how?

His brother had done it by studying the Andalites.

He decided he needed to find something that was equally useful to the Empire, yet would mark him as different from his twin.

And as he continued to flip through the various files, it gradually dawned on him: Unlike his brother, who had been fascinated by the information held by the Andalite computer, he would learn everything he could about the functioning of the computer _itself_.

He could do that. He was more analytical, his approach slower and more methodical, than his twin, who would have had no patience for such work. He would learn all the ins and outs of Andalite computer technology, and the fledgling Yeerk Empire would reward him.

* * *

Esplin the primary twin had functioning legs again, and it was nothing short of amazing.

He raced up the trunk of an enormous _Stoola_ tree, all four limbs working in tandem to propel him along, almost as if he was a four-legged creature and the tree trunk merely a horizontal surface. His Hork-Bajir body, already quick and agile on the ground, could attain a whole new level of speed in the trees.

Up and up he climbed, until the branches thinned out and the trunk bowed under his weight, but the Hork-Bajir host knew what to do even though Esplin the Yeerk had never done it before. He stretched out his arm, grabbed the uppermost branch and hurled his body out to the side. The tendons and muscles in his arm screamed as the centripetal force strained them, pulling him around in a circle. He whirled around wildly at the top of the tree, screeching with delight.

For this was his very first chance to freely test out the Hork-Bajir body in its natural environment, without an objective to pursue or a superior ordering him around. And he was determined to fully enjoy it.

Well, technically he _did_ have an objective. He was going to find the Andalite girl, ostensibly to kill her, although he had no real intention of doing so. No, he had a much better plan … But either way, he first needed to find her.

Obviously, she had made contact with the local inhabitants, as evidenced by the Hork-Bajir who had injured Esplin's previous host. So Esplin planned to return to his own host's tribe, pretending to live the ordinary life of the Hork-Bajir called Fet Mashar, while subtly prodding Fet's fellows for clues to the Andalite's whereabouts.

But there was no harm in taking a few minutes to relish being a strong and capable Hork-Bajir, leaping freely through the trees.

He swung from branch to branch, catch and release and repeat, over and over again. Then, below, he spotted a group of Hork-Bajir and—yes! They were familiar to his host. This was the correct tribe.

He let go of the branch he'd been gripping, abandoning himself to the gravitational pull of the planet, dropping down, down, falling exhilaratingly fast, faster, almost _too_ fast—and _catch!_ he grabbed a lower branch and broke his fall. He then leaped over to the tree trunk and scrambled the rest of the way down to the ground.

He paused briefly to catch his breath. Then he began to approach the Hork-Bajir. It was time to get some answers.


	7. Well, That Was Unexpected

Esplin sighed as he came upon the newly constructed ground-based Yeerk pool. His information-gathering efforts among the uninfested Hork-Bajir had been unarguably successful—apparently they did not understand the concept of a suspicious question—but so far he hadn't been able actually _find_ Aldrea the Andalite. Or even her Hork-Bajir companion, Dak Hamee.

"There he is! There's Esplin!"

Esplin's head whirled around. A Hork-Bajir he knew as Alahar 7865 was yelling and gesturing toward him.

Then a second Hork-Bajir he didn't recognize ran up.

"Well there you are," said this newcomer. "I've been trying to find you for a while. They told me you were out searching for the rogue Andalite." He smiled. "It's good to see you again, my brother. Well, technically this is the first time I've actually _seen_ you. But you know what I mean."

"By the Kandrona itself!" Esplin exclaimed. "You got your own host, brother! How did this come about?"

"Honestly?" Esplin the secondary grinned. "You know how you were always spending so much time at the computer, back when we were all still in the pool? Well, I started wondering if it held anything that would interest _me._"

"And?"

"Turns out it does. Turns out I really like exploring and manipulating the computer software itself." He leaned in conspiratorially. "Don't tell anyone, but I even figured out how to modify the records in our own databases."

Esplin looked at him sharply. "Like how?"

"Well … that's how I got this host," his twin said, grinning again. "And Hekliss and Tarak as well. I moved all of us up on the waiting list."

"I thought you all didn't want hosts!" Esplin exclaimed.

"It's boring in the pool without you," came the matter-of-fact reply. "Come on. Hekliss is here at the pool, although Tarak isn't—he's out on an infestation raid."

* * *

They found Hekliss over on the other side of the pool.

And she was not alone.

"_Hekliss!"_ cried Esplin secondary, interrupting her conversation with Korliss 7764. "What in the name of the Kandrona are you doing talking to _him?"_

Korliss opened his mouth to say something, but Hekliss shot him a quelling look. "Korliss and I have to work together. We've both been assigned to work in the mines later this evening. So I have to try to be civil. That means _don't_ start anything," she warned.

"Well, you're no fun," Esplin complained.

Hekliss narrowed her eyes. "Is that you, Esplin primary?" She turned to his twin. "You found him?"

"Of course it's me," Esplin said impatiently. "I have to say, Hekliss, if this Yeerk's intelligence is anywhere near the level of his friend Carger's … well, just take care to not get caught in a collapsing mineshaft or anything."

Korliss eyed him coldly. "Carger was no idiot, and neither am I."

"Carger is the reason we still have an Andalite on the loose," Esplin retorted. "I told him to wait to destroy the Andalites' scoop until all four of them were present. He didn't listen. He ended up chasing the Andalite into the blue mist and dying there all because he was an arrogant fool. _You_ had better be smarter than he was—I don't need anyone's stupidity getting my sister killed."

"Esplin, it's _mining_, not deep space battle—" Hekliss began exasperatedly.

Korliss gave a frozen, uncertain smile. "If what I have heard is true, the only reason you didn't also go into the mists is because you were injured," he said. "You did not die with Carger due to pure chance only. Or due to your own ineptness in battle. Pick one."

"I'll show you who's inept in battle—"

"Stand down, brother," Esplin secondary said. "Don't waste your blades on this fool."

The primary twin lowered his arms. "You're right. It would be a waste of a host body. Not that Korliss isn't already a waste of a host body," he said, earning a laugh from his brother.

"Didn't I say not to start anything?" Hekliss snapped. "Both of you apparently have trouble listening." To Korliss, she said, "Ignore my brothers. They must have spent too much time in the high places of the valley—they are evidently oxygen-deprived."

"Whose side are you _on?_" Esplin primary demanded.

"Oh really?" Korliss said to Hekliss. "I believe this behavior is quite usual for them."

"Okay, you're right. It is. Now STOP." Hekliss glared at the twins. "It is important to me that our work at the mines go smoothly, without unnecessary tension. If you're not going to help me achieve that end, you can leave."

"Sorry, Hekliss," Esplin secondary apologized.

"Do not worry," Korliss said to Hekliss. "I shall ignore the fact that you share genetic material with these two clowns, as long as you are sufficiently productive tonight."

"Just because I'm defending you doesn't mean you can patronize me," Hekliss shot back. "You are not in charge of the mining operation. We are both mere laborers. Don't pretend otherwise."

Korliss glared at her and stalked off.

Hekliss rubbed her temples with her index fingers. "I'm serious, you two. I've only had this host for half a day and I'm still getting used to it. The last thing I need is Korliss causing me distress while I'm trying to work with unfamiliar machinery in a strange environment with this strange body."

"I still think I could have easily taken him in a fight," Esplin said. "He's never even been in combat. I would have made him eat his words."

"Because you fought the Andalite?" Esplin secondary wanted to know.

"Yes. Her and her Hork-Bajir friend. The one who paralyzed my previous host." Esplin sighed. "At least that experience taught me something useful: although Hork-Bajir have very hardy constitutions overall, their spines are weak points. Knowing that, I could have dispatched Korliss pretty quickly."

"I see. Did you learn any other effective techniques?"

"Well, by slashing at the air in front of them with your wrist blades, you can drive your enemy back into a compromised position—"

A sudden scream pierced the deepening twilight.

"Aaarrrgghh!"

Wide-eyed, both twins peered into the shadows.

"Aaahhh! Help! Help!"

Esplin primary gripped the shredder he was carrying as a horde of terrified Hork-Bajir- and Gedd-Controllers came tearing out of the shadows.

And behind them …

_Impossible._

Monsters. Monsters his host knew by their verbal descriptions, from the stories that had been passed down through generations, though he had never actually laid eyes on them until now. A _Jubba-Jubba_, the creature that had been rumored to have killed Carger in the valley of the mists. A _Lerdethak_. A _Galilash_.

They approached, slowly but steadily, and in front of them, leading the advance, was Aldrea the Andalite.

Esplin's breath caught sharply.

She was responsible for this. The monsters, with intellect as limited as that of the Hork-Bajir, maybe even more so, would never have left their mist-laden home—but this cunning Andalite had apparently figured out how to bend them to her will, to assemble them as an army against Esplin's people.

So amazing.

So terrifying.

The motley crowd had stopped momentarily. For a moment the scene seemed to simply hang there, frozen in time.

"Are you ready?" asked a Hork-Bajir next to Aldrea, presumably Dak Hamee.

She gave him a silent affirmation.

"Kill," said Dak Hamee calmly.

And then everything dissolved into chaos.

* * *

Shredders fired!

Teeth and claws tore into Hork-Bajir and Gedd flesh!

Esplin whirled, aimed, fired, always trying to keep his distance from the monsters, because even all his blades would not save him if one of those freaks got close enough.

A blur of purple flashed past him.

Aldrea!

Esplin turned. Raced after her.

She was tearing toward the fighter parked past the end of the pool. No Controllers were guarding it, Esplin noticed—they'd run off to join the battle. Fools. But their foolishness served his purpose, for he did not want anyone interfering with his secret objective.

Aldrea had disappeared inside the fighter. Esplin reached the hatch a few short seconds afterward. There she was, evidently accessing the communications panel.

And in that instant she saw him—for with their ever-roaming stalk eyes, Andalites were nigh impossible to sneak up on. But Esplin was ready for her. He knocked aside her flying tail blade with his own wrist blade, then backhanded her face.

Aldrea collapsed.

"I don't think I can allow you to call for help, Aldrea, daughter of Seerow," he said with a smile, holding her body down with one talon. For he knew Andalite physiology. He knew just how much pressure to apply in order to render her immobile without injuring her, all the while staying well out of reach of her deadly tail. "Computer. Terminate communication."

‹Communication terminated.›

"You've caused a lot of trouble, Andalite," Esplin remarked. "Your friends are busily butchering my people out there."

‹Go ahead. You want to kill me. Go ahead!›

He smiled again. Such a wondrously brave creature—and very shortly now, she would be all his, to own, to use, to _be._ "Kill you? No, no, no. Not me. I don't want to kill you. I want to make you my host. I will be the first Andalite-Controller ever. I will have complete access to your every secret, to all the scientific and technical knowledge you possess," he boasted eagerly. "See, I've studied you Andalites. I admire you."

He very nearly turned back to the control panel right then, but a dangerous look in Aldrea's eyes gave him pause. So, just to be safe, he aimed a kick directly at her diaphragm.

She groaned in thought-speak.

"Terribly sorry, but I need you to stay put," Esplin told her smugly. "I'm going to power up this fighter and use its shredders to cut down your little army of DNA mistakes."

The fighter hummed to life. Esplin activated its thrusters, barely able to conceal his excitement. He _had_ her! He was about to become the very first Andalite-Controller! And now he would single-handedly be responsible for ending the battle on the ground! Surely they would skip making him a sub-visser entirely and promote him directly to visser!

The fighter rose up above the tree line as he brought it around to the scene of the battle, taking aim—

A movement out of the corner of his eye.

_Wrong!_

All wrong for an Andalite!

"Aaahhh!" Esplin cried, leaping backward.

For what had been Aldrea was now a growing, shifting mass, the Andalite features melting into—

Into the features of a _Jubba-Jubba!_

‹I don't guess you Yeerks know about this bit of new technology yet.›

They had said a _Jubba-Jubba_ had killed Carger.

They said it had lifted him up into the air …

… closed its mouth around his Hork-Bajir head …

… and _torn the head clean off._

"What are you doing?" Esplin demanded, trying to stand his ground, trying to disguise the raw terror he felt in his bones.

The _Jubba-Jubba_ strode toward him.

Its enormous clawed hand gripped his neck.

‹What am I doing? Destroying you, Yeerk. This is for my brother. For my mother. And for my _father._›

_Nooooo!_ Esplin tried to scream, but the monster's strangling grasp cut the sound off at his throat. He looked pleadingly up into the _Jubba-Jubba_'s merciless face, but saw no trace of Aldrea the Andalite, only the beast's cruel savagery.

And then the grayness closed in on his field of vision, and he saw no more.


	8. Nowhere to Go but Up

"Esplin! Esplin-Nine-Four-Double-Six!"

Someone or something was violently shaking him. He blearily opened his eyes.

Wait. He _had_ eyes. He had a _body._ He could feel the humid Hork-Bajir atmosphere on his skin.

"I'm not dead," he said wonderingly.

"Congratulations, you noticed," said the Hork-Bajir whose hands were roughly gripping his shoulders. "What exactly _happened_ to you? Your brother said he saw the fighter hovering above the trees one minute, and the next minute the hatch opened and you fell right out!"

"I … " He tried to remember. The battle. The Andalite. Oh yes, the fighter—chasing her into the fighter, being overjoyed, he _had_ her, he was going to kill all the monsters and save the day—

—and then her _changing_, becoming that monstrous creature, of which the Hork-Bajir told terrible tales.

Her enormous hand throttling his neck.

_Why didn't she kill me?_

Esplin gathered his fragmented thoughts together, trying to form a coherent explanation. "The Andalite was trying to send a call for reinforcements … trying to contact the main Andalite fleet … I was going to stop her … but then she—she turned into one of the Hork-Bajir's monsters, she was going to choke me to death!"

"He must have hit his head," the Hork-Bajir said to someone behind Esplin, someone he couldn't see.

"No, I did NOT hit my head," Esplin insisted. "Well, I might have hit it … but I still know what I saw. She said specifically that it was a new technology the Andalites had. That's the only reason I didn't inf—kill her and shoot down her monster army. It's the _only _reason she was able to stop me."

The Hork-Bajir let it go. "Let's just get you back to the base. Can you walk?"

Esplin gingerly moved his stiff limbs. "I think so—AAAHH!" A sharp pain shot through his leg. "_Dapsen!_ Not again! Curses, I can't keep the same host body for even one feeding cycle!"

"Maybe our medics will be able to repair it," the Hork-Bajir reassured him.

"No they won't," argued the out-of-sight person, and Esplin recognized his twin brother's voice. "We still don't know all that much about how to apply Andalite medicine to Hork-Bajir biology. I've read the reports."

The Hork-Bajir sighed. "What _haven't_ you read?"

"Wait," said Esplin. "If my brother's here … " He stared up at the Hork-Bajir in front of him. "Do I know _you?_"

"I'm Tarak, you idiot," the Hork-Bajir said easily. "Now come on. Let's get you out of here." He and the other Hork-Bajir-Controllers hefted Esplin into the air.

* * *

"Why does this keep happening to me?" Esplin groused.

"At least you're in better shape than Korliss," Tarak said. "_His_ host body was properly mangled by those monsters before we could fight them off. He's fine though—someone got him back to the shipboard pool. The only pool we have now, obviously."

"Pity," Esplin sneered. "Would have been nice to have been rid of him and Carger both."

"Seriously, Esplin?" It was Hekliss. "You _wanted _Korliss to die?"

"You wouldn't have?"

"I'm not saying he isn't a nuisance," Hekliss quickly clarified. "But he's still one of _us_. An ally. It's not like he's an Andalite."

"In a battle of any significance, some Yeerks will live and some will die," Esplin pointed out. "It could have been any of us. It almost was _me!_ What's wrong with wishing that a Yeerk I happen to dislike could have been one of the casualties?"

"He has a point," said Esplin secondary. "Instead of Korliss, a lot of Yeerks we don't know well perished. Is that any better?"

"Not really," Hekliss admitted. "It just seems … I don't know, disloyal or something … to want a specific Yeerk to die."

"It's not as if I'm going to kill him myself," Esplin primary argued. "I just would not have complained if one of the monsters had done it for me."

Hekliss turned to Tarak. "What do _you_ think?"

"Well … " Tarak said, alarmed at being suddenly put on the spot. "Like Esplin said, I wouldn't complain if something unfortunate happened to Korliss. But I'm not going to say it's a pity he _didn't_ die. I see your point, Esplin, but it still feels odd to say such a thing—Oh, there's the transport ship now."

"Oh joy," muttered Esplin. "Now to be stuck in the pool again for who knows how long."

"You are forgetting, brother, that my skills are quite applicable to this situation," Esplin secondary said proudly. "I'll make sure you get a host as soon as possible."

"You know," Hekliss said thoughtfully, "it bothers me that an important database like the host waiting list can be altered so easily. It's as if any idiot could completely foul up the Empire's plans."

"Are you saying I'm an idiot?" Esplin secondary said, outraged.

"No, you idiot. Well, hah. I guess I said it now," she teased. "But I mean to say, I was only exaggerating. To be more precise, any sufficiently intelligent, disciplined, motivated Yeerk could foul up the Empire's plans … which is still cause for concern."

He thought about that for a moment. "Maybe I should warn Visser One about how easy it is for someone to break into the database … and then offer to develop better cybersecurity." He grinned. "That should be an important job. Maybe they'll even make me a sub-visser."

"I wouldn't do that," said Esplin primary. "What if he's upset that you already changed things? Akdor doesn't hesitate to execute anyone he deems traitorous."

"You liar, you totally would. You just don't think _he_ should do it," Hekliss said, gesturing toward Esplin secondary.

Esplin grinned. "He's the one who always worries about doing the smart and safe thing. I'm just advising him from that perspective."

But some subconscious part of him did indeed recoil at the thought of his brother attaining sub-visser rank ahead of him … for _he_ was the primary twin, the one who did everything _first_, the one who always won their games! Because this too was a game, advancing through the ranks, only it was a far more significant game than the ones they played back in the pool. It wouldn't be right for Esplin secondary to become a sub-visser first. He didn't have the same ambition, the same drive. It wouldn't be fair.

Esplin wasn't entirely aware of this thought process, of course. All he knew was that the idea bothered him on some level. But he quickly forgot the whole thing as his friends hauled him aboard the transport ship and over to the Yeerk pool, where he wriggled out of this particular Hork-Bajir's head for the last time.

* * *

"Is your new host satisfactory?" Akdor asked. By this time he too was a Hork-Bajir-Controller.

"Yes, Akdor," Esplin said, testing its limbs, its tail. _I can only hope I have better luck with it than I had with the previous ones,_ he added mentally.

"Good. Now. You will recall Carger-Seven-Nine-Zero-One, who perished in the attack on the Andalite."

"Yes."

"Carger claimed to be a sub-visser." Akdor looked closely at Esplin. "I deliberately refused to confirm or deny this claim, because I knew that time would tell whether he would ultimately be worthy of the title."

Esplin waited.

"Carger was a fool!" Akdor slammed a clawed hand on the bulkhead of the transport ship, startling several nearby Controllers. "Because of him the Andalite still lives … and her attack on the ground-based pool has cost us many Yeerk lives."

Another substantial pause. Esplin would have told any other Yeerk to get on with it, but as Visser One, Akdor commanded respect. So again, he waited.

"I am very interested in you, Esplin-Nine-Four-Double-Six. You advised Carger against firing on the Andalite scoop while all four Andalites were not present. Then, when we assumed the Andalite had died in the mists along with our own warriors, you alone disagreed. Your studies have proven useful, for only you have been able to predict the Andalites' behavior with any degree of success."

By this point, Esplin was eagerly hanging on every word.

"Upon my recommendation, the Council has now seen fit to promote you to Sub-Visser Seventeen."

"Thank you, Akdor," Esplin said quietly, suppressing the impulse to joyously leap about the ship. A sub-visser! Finally! At long last, his efforts had been recognized!

"I recommended you for promotion specifically because you have shown yourself to be far less of a fool than Carger. You allow your understanding of the enemy's strengths and weaknesses to inform your decisions. If you wish to advance further, you must continue to display such behavior."

But Esplin was only half hearing him. His mind was exploding with possibilities. Finally, things were beginning to go right for him! As a sub-visser, he would be in command of other Yeerks, he would be noticed, he would be able to further distinguish himself. And soon enough he would capture and infest the Andalite girl and REALLY get himself noticed! He just had to be persistent enough and it would happen.

Yes, persistence was the key. This promotion itself had proved it.


	9. The Best Laid Plans

So much had happened in the past year.

Esplin had been promoted to Sub-Visser Twelve. Not through any particular achievement of his own this time, but simply because the position had become available and the Council automatically moved him up.

Then came the arrival of more Andalites. Not the main fleet, fortunately. Just a small task force. Easy enough for the Yeerks to handle with the Bug fighters they'd built and their new powerful, sleek black ships that were yet to be named. They hadn't managed to completely defeat the Andalites yet, but it was only a matter of time, as the Yeerks were increasing their numbers and steadily picking off the Andalites.

Aldrea the Andalite had actually organized a Hork-Bajir army and had become a significant nuisance, even before the arrival of the task force. But she could not be everywhere on the planet at once, and was unable to significantly stem the tide of the Yeerks' expansion.

But to Esplin, who was peering intently at the visual output from the Bug fighter's computer, that wasn't important right now.

The important thing was that she was _right here_.

* * *

Or more to the point, she was within range of the many sensors he had strung through the trees.

Aldrea had been crafty, consistently evading capture, hiding out beyond the blue mist barrier, surrounding herself with Hork-Bajir allies whenever she was in battle—but Esplin had recently managed to surround her hideout with sensors, and Aldrea had grown careless, venturing out of the mists accompanied by no one but Dak Hamee.

They came riding on top of a Yeerk ship, in fact. Then, with Dak's help, leaping from the ship to the top of a nearby tree. Esplin was astounded. So unpredictable, these two.

"Wait—what is she doing?" Tarak cried, pointing excitedly at the display. "That is not natural! Her body is _changing!_"

"Now do you believe me when I tell you she turned into a _Jubba-Jubba_ right before my eyes? As I said, it's some kind of new Andalite technology."

"_You're morphing a Hork-Bajir!"_ came Dak's voice from the audio output.

"_Yes,"_ said the Hork-Bajir Aldrea had become. _"I acquired Delf."_

"Strange kind of technology," Esplin the secondary mused. "I would love to know how it works."

"Yes, well, very soon I will have the chance to find out," Esplin said tensely. "Call the other fighters. When the Andalite and her friend descend to the ground, we will be waiting for them."

* * *

Within minutes, Esplin had Dak and Aldrea aboard his fighter, their hands shackled behind them. Tarak and Esplin the secondary were there as well, but no one else, as the fighter did not accomodate five people very comfortably and it would have been near impossible to fit six.

Up till now, things had gone according to plan, but Esplin was currently hitting a snag: Aldrea flatly refused to demorph. Nor would she answer any questions about the strange metal canister they had been carrying. And now she had just informed him that if she did not morph back to Andalite within a relatively short window of time, she would never be able to do so. She would be a Hork-Bajir forever.

He was becoming increasingly exasperated.

On impulse, he walked over to Dak Hamee. He smiled sweetly in Aldrea's direction—then kicked Dak Hamee with all the force he could muster. Once. Twice.

Actually, Esplin realized, that felt rather good. It took a little of the edge off his frustration, at least.

"Demorph, Andalite," Esplin ordered.

"NO! Don't let him—"

Esplin kicked Dak again, shutting him up. "Demorph, Andalite," he repeated, more insistently this time. "I don't want to bruise my foot hurting your friend. Just demorph. It doesn't matter. You will both become host bodies, like it or not. So why endure the pain?"

Curse Aldrea and her Andalite stubbornness. She _couldn't_ get herself stuck in morph, not now! Not now that he had finally captured her! What good was it to infest her if he couldn't be in her own natural Andalite body, if he would never be able to use the morphing ability himself—

Wait.

_Wait._

That was _it!_

"Grab her! Hold her down! I don't need her to demorph. I can infest her now and then force her to demorph!"

He laughed wildly, overcome with eager excitement. Nothing else mattered now, Tarak and Esplin secondary didn't matter, Dak Hamee's screams of protest didn't matter, nothing mattered but Aldrea's ear being twisted toward him, that one ear, that one magnificent ear, his own personal path to glory.

He released his hold on the Hork-Bajir brain and thrust himself quickly along the ear canal. He narrowed the forward half of his body into an extremely thin strand of flesh so that it could forge ahead more quickly, for he desperately wanted to reach her brain as soon as possible.

There it was, a Hork-Bajir brain and yet no Hork-Bajir mind. He came upon the memories of Aldrea-Iskillion-Falan, and all at once knew her, who she had been and who she had become, everything she knew, everything she had experienced.

But one particular memory suddenly arrested him, consuming all of his attention …

… and for one glorious moment it was not just Aldrea herself, it was _he_, Esplin-Nine-Four-Double-Six, who was galloping joyfully across a grassy field, with a sleek purple body and a lithe, bladed tail, with four Andalite eyes granting him a brilliant visual panorama.

His moment of bliss was cut short by the sudden awareness of Aldrea's mind, fearful, hateful, screaming silently at him. Dreading being invaded … being controlled.

As well she should.

For she belonged to him now. There was no escaping it.

‹Hello, Andalite!› Esplin said brightly, sending the thought directly to her mind. ‹You are mine! My host! My slave!›

No response but the same wordless rage, and underneath it all Aldrea's mind raced, searching for a way out, some tactic she could use to prevent what was happening. She still did not understand, did not accept, _would_ not accept her fate.

Well, there was an easy way to make her face it.

Esplin opened up his own memories to her, all of them, his entire personal history … showing her that despite her futile boasting over his paralyzed body, despite her thwarting his first infestation effort, despite all the times she had terrorized him and his people, it was he who now had the upper hand, he who was ultimately victorious! _He_ was now the one exploiting _her_ vulnerabilities, striking terror into _her_ hearts!

‹Yes, look into my mind, Andalite,› he urged. ‹Do you see who I am? Do you see that I am your master? Do you realize now how we will crush you, crush you all?›

He opened her eyes, saw his twin and Tarak staring at him in amazement, saw Dak Hamee still struggling and protesting, saw his former host—

_His former host!_

His former host body, now free! Now striking down first Tarak, then Esplin secondary, then turning to him, no, no, no! his Yeerk body was still partially hanging out of Aldrea's ear, exposed, vulnerable! get inside her, get inside her quick!

_Too late!_

The Hork-Bajir's fingers closed around him and yanked him right out.

* * *

Hekliss 8275 watched the fighter fall from the sky.

For a passing Andalite ship had just spotted her friends' ship, taking it out with a few quick blasts from its shredders.

The other Hork-Bajir-Controllers had left for their fighters. Hekliss could have caught a ride with one of them, she supposed, but some instinct had told her to stay put. Just in case things did not go according to plan.

And now she stared, horrified, as that instinct proved to be right.

* * *

"Esplin!" Hekliss screamed, shaking the unconscious Hork-Bajir. "Esplin! Are you all right?"

The Hork-Bajir's eyes fluttered open, and he blinked several times.

"Esplin?"

He glared at her suddenly. "_Not_ Esplin. I am Gah Fillat!" He kicked upward with his right talon, catching Hekliss in the stomach.

"Urrrgghhh!" she groaned as Gah Fillat leaped to his feet and ran off into the forest.

Where _was_ Esplin, then? Had he managed to infest the Andalite?

She decided not to worry about that for now, instead scouring the area for Esplin secondary and Tarak. There would be no reason for _them_ to have left their host bodies.

Out of the corner of her eye, something silver-gray gleamed in the grass.

_Impossible._

She raced over to it.

It _was_ a Yeerk, wriggling through the grass. She scooped it up and examined it. It seemed to be in perfect health.

"How in the name of all the Kandrona shines on did _you_ survive like _that?_" she demanded.

Of course, the Yeerk could neither hear nor reply.

"I'm going to assume that's you, Esplin, since obviously you're not in your host." She curled her fingers gently around it and resumed her search for the other two.

* * *

The next Hork-Bajir she found was Esplin the secondary twin.

"Ugghhhh," he moaned as she shook him awake. "What happened … ?" A look of realization slowly dawned on his face. "Oh. Oh, no. We are _idiots_."

"What do you mean, you are idiots? What happened?"

"We didn't restrain my brother's former host," Esplin said wryly. "The last thing I remember was him knocking Tarak unconscious, and I suppose he did the same thing to me before I could react."

"Yes, Gah Fillat." Hekliss gingerly rubbed her abdomen. "I met him. He's a rather feisty creature."

"But … " Esplin looked around. "What am I doing on the ground? What happened to the fighter?"

"Shot down by Andalites," Hekliss said grimly. "You should have seen it come crashing down through the trees. It was torn apart! And look—look who survived it all!" She held out the Yeerk for him to see.

"Is that … my twin?"

"Well, it sure isn't Visser Four," Hekliss quipped. "Like I said, I encountered his former host, who is definitely uninfested now. So logic dictates this must be him."

Esplin looked thoughtful. "I'm sensing a repeating pattern here."

"You mean that your brother keeps having near-death experiences and surviving? Or that he goes through host bodies faster than Dracon beam energy packs?"

"Both."

"It is definitely uncanny," Hekliss admitted. "How's your host body? Are you okay?"

Esplin twitched his arms and legs experimentally. "Urgh. Everything hurts … but at least all my limbs are functioning." He laboriously climbed to his feet. "Where's Tarak?"

"Haven't found him yet. If you're sure you're all right, you can help me look."

* * *

They found Tarak somewhat further away from the wreckage of the fighter. Upon waking him, they discovered that one of his legs was damaged.

"Can you move it at all?" Hekliss asked.

Tarak winced. "No."

"I have an idea," Esplin said. "Tarak, you hold my brother. Then Hekliss and I will carry you back to the base."

"That's a long way," Hekliss pointed out, but she held the Yeerk out for Tarak to take.

"Wait, what?" asked Tarak. "You're telling me that's Esplin primary? What happened?"

Esplin secondary sighed. "We didn't restrain his old host, that's what happened. He knocked you unconscious, and then me, and I assume he got hold of my brother before the infestation process was complete. And then, according to Hekliss and supported by the visual evidence—" he waved an arm around, indicating the wreckage of the Bug fighter "—we were shot down by Andalites."

"Do we really want to drag Tarak back the whole way?" Hekliss asked. "I mean, no offense, Tarak. I'm just saying we could stay here and wait for someone to find us."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Esplin secondary said. "The other fighters already left. They didn't see what happened. It could be a full day before anyone notices we're missing, and we are still dangerously close to the mist barrier and the Andalite outpost. Go ahead and hold Esplin, Tarak. We really need to get out of here."

Tarak held out his cupped hands, and Hekliss gently dropped Esplin primary into them.

"This feels very peculiar," he observed. "So small and fragile we Yeerks are, compared to our hosts. It is so strange to hold my friend in my hands, knowing that any inordinately rough handling may destroy him."

"Even though a fall from a spaceship didn't," Hekliss muttered.

"You're still going on about that?" Esplin secondary demanded.

"You didn't see it happen, okay? The ship was torn to pieces. The entire side of it was ripped off. It hit branch after branch after branch. That fighter was utterly destroyed. And Esplin doesn't have a scratch on him. Which is a good thing, of course, but it's still ridiculous."

"I may not have seen it take place, but I can see the aftermath," Esplin said. "I _know_ it was improbable. That's not the point. I just think you're being repetitive."

It was Hekliss's turn to sigh.

"Anyway, Tarak, I see what you mean." Esplin looked down at the small gray creature that was his twin brother. "It feels perfectly safe to be a Yeerk in the pool, but out in the larger world … we are so vulnerable."

"I suppose that is why we take hosts, then," Tarak said.

"Yes, I suppose so."


	10. Quantum Virus

Esplin the primary was extremely confused.

The last thing that had made sense was hitting the deck of the Bug fighter. He'd been certain he would be crushed by a vengeful Hork-Bajir or Andalite. But instead there had been a sudden jolt, and then he was flying, impacting things, panicking, wondering which of these wild seconds would be his last. Then one final plop on a strange, textured surface. At that point he'd smelled water, and begun wriggling in the direction of the scent.

He hadn't made it very far when he'd been scooped up by Hork-Bajir hands, and for a moment he had begun to panic again—but these were gentle hands, not the hands of an enemy bent on destroying him.

Long hours had passed, and finally, finally, his sonar detected an ear! A Hork-Bajir ear! He eagerly wiggled his way into the safety of the Hork-Bajir's head.

Eyes. He had eyes! After fearing he would never be able to see again!

And there were his friends. Hekliss. Esplin secondary.

Of course. Of course they were the ones responsible for his improbable survival. Good old Hekliss and Esplin. He could always count on them.

"What exactly happened?" Esplin demanded, once he'd taken control of the new host's speech centers.

"Apparently the universe likes you," Hekliss told him. "The Bug fighter was _shot down._ By Andalites_._ How you survived that as a Yeerk I will never understand."

"_Hekliss," _protested Esplin secondary.

"Oh, be quiet. He hasn't heard the story yet," Hekliss said defensively. "And I made it brief, so don't complain."

A shrill, repetitive sound cut into Esplin's awareness.

BREET! BREET! BREET!

"Why is there an alarm going off?"

"We're under emergency alert," his twin explained. "There have been reports of Hork-Bajir suddenly, inexplicably screaming and writhing in pain. It must be some sort of disease because it appears to be highly contagious—"

"NO!" Esplin shrieked.

Esplin secondary threw him a startled look, and Hekliss actually leaped backward in alarm.

"What?"

"You idiots, it's a quantum virus! That's what was in the canister! It attacks Hork-Bajir! It's going to spread from Hork-Bajir to Hork-Bajir until the entire species is wiped out!"

Alerted by Esplin's frantic tone of voice, all Controllers in the vicinity suddenly froze. To their knowledge, Sub-Visser Twelve was always confident and in control … so if _he_ was panicking, there had to be serious trouble.

Esplin cursed inwardly. How could the virus have gotten released? For Aldrea and Dak Hamee had no intention of unleashing such a plague. They had been trying to find a way to dispose of the canister safely.

"What should we do, Sub-Visser?" pleaded a nearby Yeerk—Esplin didn't know who it was, nor did he particularly care.

He pushed his wonderings aside. It didn't matter now.

"Evacuate the planet immediately! Avoid all contact with infected Hork-Bajir—do not allow them to approach! Shoot them if you have to!"

* * *

"So where exactly did this virus come from?" Esplin secondary demanded.

All four of them were now safely aboard Visser Four's Blade ship, although Hekliss had been recruited to do some odd jobs for the visser, and Tarak was currently in the small shipboard pool, awaiting a new host. The supply of spare host bodies had been limited to the few they could drag aboard, but Esplin primary had ordered that one be reserved for Tarak. As a Yeerk of significant rank, Esplin no longer needed to depend on his brother's computer skills for such things.

He sighed. "According to Aldrea's memory, its creation was ordered by the leader of the Andalite task force—War-Prince Alloran-Semitur-Corrass. His intent was to weaken our forces by depriving us of Hork-Bajir hosts."

"Alloran … I'll remember that name," his twin said grimly. "An enemy who would resort to such measures is not to be underestimated."

"Well, he isn't our problem anymore. We've gotten what we can from the Hork-Bajir world. It's time to move on."

Esplin secondary decided to drop the subject. Instead he stared out the viewscreen at the Hork-Bajir planet. This was his first time seeing it from orbit, a great barren sphere except for the jagged forested valleys that cinched its equator like a belt.

"So … " he said at last. "You say you got that information from the Andalite's memory? You were in contact with her brain long enough to do that?"

The primary twin's eyes brightened. "I saw all of it in an instant. Her entire past. It was different than infesting a regular Hork-Bajir—I don't know if it has to do with the Zero-space connection or what—"

"Zero-space?" Esplin secondary demanded.

"Yes. Apparently Zero-space is an integral part of the morphing process. Don't ask me to explain it—Aldrea didn't understand all the technical details. Science wasn't a particular interest of hers."

Esplin secondary looked somewhat disappointed.

His brother was meanwhile lost in thought. "It was incredible though—instantaneously receiving all of her experiences, all of her knowledge, everything that was essential to _being an Andalite …_ there are no words that can properly describe it. And then me opening my mind up to her, my past and hers swirling together in both our minds—"

"Wait. Hold it. You did _what?_"

"I let her see my own memories. She was resisting me, and I wanted her to see that it was pointless," Esplin primary explained.

"But … but that means the Andalite knows everything that you know, about our plans, about our recent technological achievements, everything, and she's running around free! You just gave away a poolful of knowledge to our enemies!"

"Well, she knew most of what we were doing already ... and I wasn't expecting to get pulled out of her ear!"

"None of us were expecting that, or we'd have been prepared," Esplin secondary pointed out. "My point is that you never know what's going to happen to a host body. Even if the host doesn't escape, it could end up getting transferred to a different Yeerk, and do you really want someone else seeing all your memories? Someone like Korliss, who could potentially use them against you?"

"All right, you have a point," Esplin primary admitted grudgingly. "Now drop it, will you?"

* * *

_Some time later ..._

"The Andalites used the quantum virus because they knew they were losing," Korliss was explaining to Diptran 804. "We were _this close _to overwhelming their task force. A task force just like the one that guards the home world."

"But surely the rest of the Andalite fleet would be nearby, ready to be called in as reinforcements?" Diptran protested.

"You obviously haven't been keeping up with the intelligence reports, my friend. Until recently, the bulk of the fleet was in Sector Two. They are not there now, of course, but where do you think they went? Not to our home world. It's been quiet as a dwarf star. They must have been called _here_, to the Hork-Bajir world. And judging by the current configuration of Zero-space, they have months to go until they get here. This is the perfect time to retake our world!"

"But can we _hold_ the home world?" said Diptran. "Even if we defeat the task force, the fleet will eventually come, and it is more than capable of demolishing us."

"That's where the next part of my plan comes in," said Korliss. "As soon as the planet is ours again, we load as many Yeerks from the home pools onto our ships as we can, then resume our search for suitable host species. We start infiltrating multiple species on different worlds, increasing our numbers, building more ships. It will divide the Andalite fleet, forcing it to decide its priorities."

Korliss suddenly noticed Esplin 9466 the primary twin—_excuse me, Sub-Visser Twelve,_ he thought sarcastically—standing a few feet away, watching intently.

"What are _you_ looking at?" Korliss demanded.

Esplin smirked. "That's no way to speak to your sub-visser."

"I merely asked a question, _Sub-Visser,_" Korliss said curtly. He'd never liked either of the Esplin twins. For one thing, they tended to get on his nerves. But more importantly, he believed they weren't serious enough for the work that awaited the Empire. After all, the galaxy was full of potentially hostile peoples, the Andalites foremost among them, and despite Esplin the primary's obsession with the Andalites as a species, he failed to appreciate the sheer danger they posed. He'd played with that Andalite girl, chasing a foolish fantasy of having her as a host … whereas if he had simply eliminated her when he'd had the chance, she would never have contacted the Andalite fleet in the first place. The Yeerks could simply have gone on quietly infesting Hork-Bajir, and there would have been no quantum virus at all!

And yet somehow it was Esplin who had already managed to climb the ranks of the Yeerk hierarchy, while Korliss had yet to prove himself worthy.

"If you must know," Esplin replied, "I was amusing myself by listening to you spout ridiculous ideas. Retake the home world _now?_ That's madness. We'll never be able to hold it. It would be better to concentrate on building up our forces first, then address the home world later, when we're ready."

"We'll never have a better opportunity—" Korliss began indignantly, but Esplin was already walking away, having evidently decided he had somewhere else to be.

_And he says _I'm_ a waste of a host body,_ thought Korliss.


	11. Of Mortrons and Mayhem

Korliss's plan actually worked flawlessly.

The Yeerks burst out of Zero-space, catching the Andalites completely by surprise. After quickly overwhelming the small task force, those ships which had onboard pools landed beside the colossal Sulp Niar pool. There they loaded just under half a million hostless Yeerks—nearly twice the number that had originally left the home world.

Even if the Andalite fleet did eventually recapture the Yeerk planet, their efforts would not have been wasted—all that remained was to find a half million suitable host bodies, and the Yeerks would really be a force to be reckoned with.

But it hadn't been Korliss who'd put forth the idea.

* * *

"You lied," hissed Korliss furiously. "You thought my plan was a good one all along! It was _you_ who suggested it to Visser Four."

"It was," Esplin agreed. "And between that, and saving all your tails from the quantum virus, I just got promoted. Again. You are now addressing—" he paused for dramatic effect "—Sub-Visser _Seven_."

"You—you _usurper!_ You _fraud!_"

"I don't see why you're so upset. Wasn't it you who once said I needed to—what was it—_appreciate the more creative ways of achieving victory?_ I'd say I've learned that lesson well, wouldn't you?"

Korliss fumed wordlessly, recognizing all too well his own words.

"It's not my fault you didn't take your ideas straight to the visser," Esplin continued smugly. "It could have been you who got the promotion, but no, you decided to talk things over with what's-his-name first. Don't blame me for your own failings."

"One of these days, you will fall," Korliss seethed. "You don't deserve that rank of yours. You won't hold it for long, your arrogant foolishness will catch up with you—and when that happens, I will laugh."

"Hah," Esplin said rudely. "You're just upset I beat you at your own game."

"Maybe I am, Esplin," snarled Korliss. "But the game's not over yet."

* * *

"You ever think maybe all this power he's getting is going to his head?" Hekliss asked Tarak.

"Who? You mean Esplin?"

"Of course I mean Esplin. Let me rephrase my question—do you ever think at _all?_"

"Never in my life," Tarak said blithely. "I ensure my mind remains utterly empty."

Hekliss gave him a look. "I'm serious. This is his third official promotion, and every time it happens he gets that much cockier. I'm worried he's going to get himself into trouble."

"Esplin's pretty good at getting himself _out_ of trouble," Tarak pointed out.

She snorted. "Half of that's been sheer luck. I don't trust it. No, I think I'd better keep an eye out for him. Kandrona knows _he's_ not going to be doing it."

Tarak cocked his three-horned head. "I'll help you."

"I thought you didn't agree with me," Hekliss said, looking amused.

"I don't _disagree_ with you," Tarak replied. "He does tend to get into problematic situations. And he _is_ my friend. I can definitely watch out for him if it makes you feel better."

She smiled. "Thanks."

* * *

Months passed, and the Yeerk ships scattered about the galaxy, searching for hosts. They had developed a classification system for host species: Class One creatures were completely uninfestable, Class Two were substandard bodies, Class Three were ideal bodies but severely limited in number, Class Four were too dangerous to attempt infesting, and Class Five creatures were the all-around ideal host species—but had proved to be extremely rare. The Hork-Bajir had for all intents and purposes been a Class Five species originally, but the quantum virus had decimated their population, reducing them to Class Three—and Hork-Bajir were notoriously slow breeders.

Of the species Visser Four's search team had come across, all had been Class One so far. There were occasional reports of other ships finding a Class Three or low-population Class Two host species, but Esplin and his friends never got to see any of these creatures in person.

As a high-ranking sub-visser, Esplin was often charged with leading exploratory teams down to the various worlds. Each time, they would go out with hopes high … and each time, they would return to the Blade ship empty-handed.

Or, in Esplin's case, not _entirely_ empty-handed …

* * *

"What is _that?_" Hekliss blurted.

"This, my friends, is a Mortron," Esplin said with a flourish.

"It has _wheels!_" exclaimed Esplin secondary. "How in the galaxy does any biological creature come to have wheels?"

"I know, I couldn't believe it either," Tarak said, having been part of the expedition himself. "But they're real, they're an actual part of its body. Or … half its body, anyway. It's complicated to explain."

Hekliss was not amused. "What is this, the third creature you've brought back from whatever strange planet Visser Four's wanted to explore? Where are you keeping them all?"

"I'm a sub-visser, I have my own quarters," Esplin reminded her.

"I've _seen_ your quarters," Esplin secondary pointed out, "and if you keep bringing pets into it, there's going to be hardly any room left for _you_."

"Why do you keep bringing animals onto the ship?" Hekliss demanded. "What is even the point?"

Esplin primary gave an enigmatic smile. "Oh, you haven't seen what this Mortron can do. He's not a mere curiosity—little Jarex here can be quite formidable in battle."

"Formidable?" Esplin secondary said skeptically. "A clunky wrinkled thing with wheels?"

"Just watch," his twin told him. "Jarex—_attack!_"

Esplin secondary yelped in alarm as the Mortron split apart into two pieces! The upper half flapped a pair of newly-revealed leathery wings, while the lower half spun its wheels—and both of them were heading _straight for him._

The wheeled half-Mortron reached him first. He kicked it away, sending it careening into a bulkhead—but the winged half-Mortron was still swooping toward his face. Instinctively, he threw up a wrist blade, upon which the Mortron promptly impaled itself. With a sweep of his arm he sliced it in two. The pieces flopped to the ground.

His brother cackled maniacally.

A movement caught Esplin the secondary's eye … and within seconds he was staring at the floor in wonder and horror. One half of the Mortron was growing into a new winged creature … and the other half was becoming a complete two-part Mortron again!

"Mortrons!" Esplin primary ordered, before they could resume their attack. "Desist."

To the other Yeerks' amazement, the Mortrons obediently wheeled themselves back to Esplin's side, the new winged Mortron settling back into its "parent's" wheeled half.

"I think I will call this new one … Larex. Jarex and Larex. A pair of twins—just like you and me," he said gleefully.

"Have you gone mad?" his brother demanded.

"You see what I mean though," Esplin primary insisted. "Imagine these creatures in battle against the Andalites! Their first instinct will be to carve up the Mortrons with their tail blades … and very soon they will have more Mortrons than they can possibly handle!"

"Well, mad or not, I'm glad you're on our side," said Esplin secondary. Then he laughed. "The Andalites will never know what hit them."

"You know it, brother," his twin said proudly.

* * *

The Blade ship loomed above a desolate, wind-swept world.

They'd been assured by Skrit Na traders that there was a sentient species here—one that was apparently interested in purchasing all manner of preserved meats, in addition to living creatures. If they were as numerous as the Skrit Na claimed, there would be more than enough hosts for all the Yeerks on the Blade ship. But at the moment, the planet seemed utterly lifeless.

"I assume you want me to take a party down to the surface, Visser?" Esplin inquired.

Visser Four looked thoughtful. "Yes, and set your course for the mountainous region. I don't see how creatures as large as the Skrit Na described could possibly live amidst these wide desert plains without leaving a trace … but the mountains are a different story. They may well be concealing something."

* * *

Not long afterward, Hork-Bajir- and Gedd-Controllers poured forth from the four Bug fighters that had landed at the foot of the bleak-looking mountains.

Esplin surveyed his team. Tarak was there, which was not surprising; he frequently volunteered for these missions. More remarkably, Korliss was also present. Esplin sighed. Having Korliss under his command was always a nuisance, for Korliss would find any way he could to subtly undermine Esplin's leadership. But at this point, Esplin couldn't exactly order him to stay behind.

Without warning, the ground began to shake.

"What?!" Tarak yelped.

"Rrrwhat is rrrr-happening?!" a Gedd cried.

"Stay calm! Hold your ground!" Esplin ordered, a poor choice of words, for at that moment the orange-red dirt simply opened up and swallowed them all.

* * *

"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!"

"Rrrrrraaaaaarrrrrggggghhhh!"

The Yeerks found themselves rocketing blindly down a pitch-black underground tunnel at insane speeds, sliding, tumbling, desperately scrabbling to hold onto something, anything, but the packed-dirt walls of the tunnel afforded no grip whatsoever.

At long last, the slope lessened, and they gradually slowed to a stop, unceremoniously piling one on top of the other as the tunnel opened up into an enormous cavern. Filling most of the space was a faintly glowing heap of what appeared to be tangled red tubes.

"Rrrrgghh!" cried a Gedd as one of the Hork-Bajir's blades nicked him.

‹MY CHILDREN, AWAKE.›

The immense psychic voice reverberated throughout the cavern, almost as if it were an audible sound.

"What?"

"That was thought-speak!"

"Was that an Andalite?!"

"No Andalite sounds like _that,_" Esplin hissed. "This is something else!"

‹THERE IS FOOD.›

The Yeerks had exactly one second to contemplate that statement.

Then the giant pile of tubes exploded into life.

* * *

From sudden splits in the tubes' sides came pouring enormously bloated creatures, each supported by two long rows of cone-shaped legs, which then turned to snapping pincers where the front portion of their body rose up off the ground. The hideous worms rushed at the Yeerks, wielding round, gaping mouths ringed with sharp teeth.

The Gedds were devoured in seconds.

"Out, out, _out!_" Esplin yelled._ "_Back up the tunnel!"

The Hork-Bajir were having somewhat better luck, as their flashing blades effortlessly sliced into the creatures' flesh, spilling their innards onto the ground. Some of the creatures even stopped attacking the Yeerks, turning instead to feast upon their wounded comrades.

Esplin's stomach turned. What kind of repulsive freaks were these?

Once the Yeerks got into the tunnel, their situation improved further, for the tunnel could only accommodate so many of the creatures at once. In addition, the worms began to understand they were no match for the group of Hork-Bajir-Controllers—_so they _are_ somewhat intelligent_, Esplin realized—and they decided not to pursue them further.

It was Tarak who noticed that one Hork-Bajir had gotten caught up in the seething mass of worm-creatures and seemed to be having trouble fending them off.

"Esplin, wait! Someone's getting left behind!"

Esplin took one look and groaned. "_Tarak_, it's _Korliss_ for the Kandrona's sake, leave him!"

* * *

After what seemed like ages, the Yeerks burst forth from the tunnel onto the planet's surface. As they scrambled desperately into their Bug fighters, they heard a faint voice calling.

"Wait!"

To everyone's amazement, a wheezing, panting Korliss emerged from the tunnel.

"Sub-Visser—I stunned one—couldn't carry it back by myself—"

"Speak coherently already!" Esplin barked. The close brush with death had put him in a foul mood, and having to deal with Korliss now wasn't helping.

Korliss glared at him belligerently. He took several deep breaths. "We _are_ supposed to be determining whether these creatures will make suitable host bodies, are we not? I stunned one with my Dracon beam. We can take it back to the Blade ship and have it infested. But I'm _going_ to need _help_. It is _heavy_."

Esplin sighed. He waved an arm toward a nearby group of Hork-Bajir. "You and you. And you two. Go help Korliss drag that creature back up here."

The Hork-Bajir in question did not look excited at the prospect. "Go back in _there?_ Sub-Visser—"

"Go or I'll feed you to them myself," Esplin said irritably. He glowered at them until they had all disappeared into the tunnel.

Tarak spoke up. "I hope those worms _are_ infestable."

"They'd better be," Esplin agreed. "I will _not _be happy if this whole ordeal ends up being for nothing."

* * *

It was not an easy task, hauling the stinking sack of flesh up the slippery incline. Even with four helpers. Korliss had plenty of time to mull over the events of the day … and for resentment of his sub-visser to fester in his mind.

He'd thought Esplin was incompetent, immature, obnoxious … but on the whole, relatively harmless. A threat only to Korliss's success. Not to his very existence.

Obviously, it was time to revise that opinion. Because not only had Esplin had absolutely no qualms about sacrificing Korliss to the ravenous worms, he'd almost sounded as if he welcomed the prospect. As if he were anxious to be rid of him for good.

In Korliss's mind, that upgraded Esplin from a mere nuisance to an enemy on par with the Andalites.

He threw his shoulder into the worm's sagging flesh, vowing to figure out some way of dealing with the situation ... some way to protect his own life.


	12. The Trouble with Taxxons

**_The author is eternally grateful to Tumblr user chromatographic for coming up with their theory about the Taxxons_.**

* * *

Evros 534 of the Sulp Niar pool waited anxiously.

When he and thousands of his poolmates had been taken from the homeworld and loaded onto spaceships, he had felt honored, even excited, to be among them. Instead of carrying on as homeworld Yeerks had always done, taking part in their myriad traditions, passing them on to those newly hatched from grub form … he and the others had been inducted into a new generation of spacefaring Yeerks, those who were taking full advantage of the knowledge given to them by the Andalite Prince Seerow.

Not all Yeerks from the homeworld were interested in the shipboard computer, but Evros was, excitedly tracking all the new developments of the fledgling Yeerk Empire. He found himself drawn to the various species the Yeerks investigated, and began analyzing them, comparing them and cross-referencing them with one another, making notes of their potential uses, even those who were unsuitable as hosts. It was mainly an idle interest of his, but it had apparently drawn his superiors' attention.

Now he was about to be the first to experience an entirely new species of host, about which little was known—except for the fact that they were carnivorous.

Finally, the creature's head was thrust under the surface of the pool. Desperately trying to remember everything he'd learned in host training, Evros pinpointed the opening in its head and began his entry.

* * *

The moment Evros began to neurally connect to the creature's brain, he realized it would be absolutely nothing like a Gedd's. The vision was wholly different, fragmented, but making sense in a strange way, oddly well-equipped for perceiving depth and detecting motion, lousy at distinguishing color and detail. As for hearing, it was about average as far as Evros could tell.

But _smell_ …

The smell of blood, of living flesh, was overpowering.

Evros soon had only one thing on his mind.

* * *

Then, just as quickly, he had two things on his mind, for upon recognizing the bladed creatures around him he realized he'd be sliced to ribbons before he ever got his teeth on them.

"Sreeeeeyyyaaahhhh!" he screamed in frustration.

"Can you speak intelligibly?" demanded one of the bladed ones. Hork-Bajir-Controllers. Evros knew them from the computer simulations—and the host mind knew them from real life, from the inexplicable sudden invasion of the hive, its most recent conscious memory.

"Ssssrreww," Evros sputtered weakly.

"Give him a translator pad," said another Hork-Bajir.

"Yes, Visser." The first obligingly produced a handheld device. Skrit Na technology, Evros knew. Not as sophisticated as the Andalites' translator chips, which were implanted directly into the brain, but functional enough for most purposes.

"Well, Evros-Five-Three-Four," said the visser. "What do you think of your host?"

"It is unlike any of the species we have taken so far," Evros admitted, grateful that his shaky nervousness would not be conveyed through the pad's disembodied voice. "Visser, I request a moment to further investigate this host's mind. I do not yet understand it."

The visser granted permission, and the bewildered Evros dug deeper into his host's mind. A strange mind it was, individual in some ways, yet also part of a collective—an organized colony in a harmonious symbiosis with the relatively immobile intelligence called the Living Hive.

And from that collective came a story of a time before this creature's birth, when the planet was fertile and an industrialized civilization spread across it, for these worms were surprisingly clever when they weren't driven half-mad with hunger.

The hunger … the hunger was a recent development, an epigenetic reaction to the event called the Great Disaster, of which no one knew what the precise cause was—overindustrialization, overpopulation, overexploitation of natural resources, probably all of the above, it didn't matter now, either way the planet's ecosystem had collapsed … and along with it their entire society.

Their machines, their artifacts, the sprawling metal structures that had once overwhelmed the planet had all been sold to the Skrit Na, for scrap if nothing else, traded for fresh meat, always meat, all the meat they could get.

For they were starving, and convinced—_at the biological level—_that they always would be.

* * *

"So what are these creatures called?" Visser Four demanded.

Evros told them, a harsh, sibilant hiss of a name.

"Tsaxsssss-ksssons?" tried the sub-visser.

"I am not even going to try to pronounce that word accurately," Visser Four said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Taxxons will do fine. So what have you learned?"

"Their species is recovering from an ecological catastrophe," Evros explained. "They have been deprived of food for multiple generations, and have developed a hunger so strong … even I can barely control it."

"Will they be useful as hosts?"

Evros pondered that. "In limited capacities, yes, though they should probably be closely supervised. They have some useful traits—they are technically skilled, these multiple hands are quite dexterous in concert with one another, and they can tunnel through soil and rock extremely quickly. I think they will be very effective when teamed with Hork-Bajir—they have complementary strengths and weaknesses, and the Taxxons' fear of Hork-Bajir blades will keep them from eating anything—or anyone—they shouldn't."

"I'd say that's good enough, wouldn't you?" the visser said to his companion. He turned back to Evros. "Evros, this is my lieutenant, Sub-Visser Seven. You'll be working under him. I believe you have similar interests—the sub-visser is our resident expert on alien species, and has accumulated quite an impressive collection of animal specimens."

"You have?" Evros said to the sub-visser, surprised.

"Of course. I shall show you my menagerie—" The sub-visser smiled. "If you promise not to eat any of them."

"You could slice me up fifty different ways if I tried," Evros pointed out. "I believe I can control myself."

* * *

Even after several months, Esplin still wasn't sure what to think of the Taxxons.

Yes, they could be terrifyingly destructive in battle. But that destruction could all too quickly fall upon ally and enemy alike.

It hadn't been easy to take them as hosts either, at least not at first. As the Yeerks had learned from their initial foray, venturing into the Taxxon hive was very nearly a death sentence. But they had soon learned to bargain with the Taxxons, to take advantage of their ever-present desire for flesh. Not all Taxxons could be lured to the Yeerks' side this way—those with stronger self-control remained staunchly loyal to the Living Hive—but that was so much the better, for every battle with enemy Taxxons provided more food for the loyal Taxxons.

Still, something about the creatures' insatiable appetite unnerved Esplin. In the back of every Yeerk's mind was the fear of Kandrona starvation—a slow, agonizing process, the doom of anyone deprived of Kandrona rays for over seventy-two hours, the reason why every Yeerk regularly left their host to feed at the Yeerk pool. And the Taxxons' terrible hunger echoed that of a Kandrona-starved Yeerk—a screaming, raging, all-consuming desperation.

But Esplin always pushed aside his discomfort.

After all, he had to work with the Taxxons.

At least his assistant, Evros, had proved to be decent company once they'd gotten over the communication hurdle. Esplin had gradually learned to at least understand the Taxxon language, though it was impossible for him to articulate the words with a Hork-Bajir mouth. Not only was it a relief to no longer have to deal with that silly pad, but Evros's natural speech patterns revealed an analytical personality with a wry sense of humor. Not unlike Esplin's twin brother.

Esplin secondary himself was sometimes around, but not often, for by now he was a valued member of the cybersecurity team under the newly-promoted Visser Two. Not valued enough to earn a rank—simply being a skilled computer technician wasn't the sort of accomplishment that made one a sub-visser—but enough that he spent most of his time aboard ships or at the planetside computer stations. Esplin primary, on the other hand, spent nearly all his time out in the field. It was Hekliss and Tarak who frequently found excuses to accompany him.

Now, however, Esplin was at the planet-based Yeerk pool for his own Kandrona feeding. He spotted his brother and Hekliss over on the other side of the pool and had just decided to go talk to them when—

"Sub-Visser!" Evros said in spitting, hissing Taxxonese as he scuttled up to Esplin. "One of our people requests assistance. Some of our Taxxon allies are threatening to rebel—they think we're not feeding them enough."

There were a number of Taxxons who, though they had agreed to accept Yeerk control, had yet to actually be infested. Usually they caused little trouble—but occasionally they got restless.

Esplin sighed. "And you can't do anything about it because to them you're just a huge squishy bag of extra food, am I right?"

"That would be correct, yes."

"It's always something," Esplin muttered. "Which group of Taxxons is it?"

"The other Yeerk will take you to them—I didn't get his name, but he's waiting over there in the mag-lev car."

* * *

The Taxxons had collectively managed to retain some of their former technical knowledge—enough that the Yeerks had been able to replicate their old transportation system. Though the Living Hive could organically shift and extend its tunnels over thousands of feet, sending its children out from itself and receiving them back again, sometimes it really was more efficient for Taxxons to move directly across the planet surface. For this, they used magnetic levitation trains—or to be more accurate, single cars which flew swiftly across tracks they never touched.

It was toward one of these cars Esplin was hurrying now. A Hork-Bajir-Controller was visible through its transparent upper panel, but Esplin took little notice of him.

Until he got inside, that is.

"_You!_"

"Yes, _me,_" Korliss 7764 replied, eyeing Esplin suspiciously.

Esplin sighed. Today was apparently going downhill fast. Then again, he supposed he should count himself lucky that it had been quite a while since he'd last run into Korliss. It was bound to happen at some point. Might as well be today.

"So Evros tells me we have an issue with rebellious Taxxons," Esplin said, wanting to get things over with as efficiently as possible.

"What? You don't have any insults for me? Esplin, I'm surprised at you."

"How many times do I have to tell you to address me by my rank?" Esplin barked automatically, then thought better of it. "Never mind. What of the Taxxons?"

"Oh they are indeed … disgruntled," Korliss said, starting the car. "Apparently your efforts to keep them fed have been inadequate."

Esplin snorted. "They're Taxxons, there is no such thing as feeding them _enough_. The disgusting worms will get more food from us than those mountain Taxxons with the Living Hive will ever dream of seeing. I don't know what they hope to gain by these tricks."

Korliss said nothing.

Esplin stared outside of the car at the drab Taxxon scenery whizzing by. Things could be going worse, he supposed. At least Korliss wasn't being too terribly obnoxious. He'd deal with the unruly Taxxons, make all the right threats and promises, then get back to the pool before starvation set in. He still had several hours to go. He'd make it.

The minutes passed, and the monotony began to grate on his nerves. If there was one thing to be said about the Taxxon world, it was boring. A dull, unvarying environment with very few species left alive … whatever catastrophe had hit the Taxxon world had resulted in complete and total devastation. Esplin had been forced to send most of his animals back to the homeworld because he simply couldn't keep them nourished properly. The Hork-Bajir and Gedds themselves had to subsist on dry, chemically manufactured food, the type produced aboard ship, since there were no trees and hardly any plants around—

_Ssslash!_

"Aaaahhh!" cried Esplin as the pain stabbed into his spine and he dropped like a stone.

_Not again!_

He stared in shock, barely able to move his arms, his legs completely immobilized—an all too familiar sensation. Then he noticed the greedy triumph in Korliss's eyes as the car slid to a stop.

"You dapsen fool!" Esplin yelled. "What sort of treachery is this?!"

The door opened. From his supine position on the floor, all Esplin could see was a curved wall off in the distance. Evidently they were in some kind of huge cavernous area.

Korliss grasped Esplin's limp body by the upper arms, arching his own head downward so that they were face to face. His eager eyes burned with hatred.

"_I win,_" he hissed.

And with a sudden swift jerk of his arms, he thrust Esplin out into empty space.

* * *

He landed with a thud on packed dirt.

"SSSSRRRREEEEEEE-WWWAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR!" came a scream from nearby.

Too close.

Much too close!

_Taxxons!_

They were all around him! The nearer ones had temporarily dove away to avoid getting crushed by a falling Hork-Bajir, but now on they came, recognizing that he was helpless, that his paralyzed body couldn't even do so much as lift an arm against them!

He opened his mouth to scream, but all he could manage was a raw terrified wheeze as the round red mouths bore down on him

biting

tearing

ripping the very skin and muscle from his bones

no

no

NO

make it stop

make it stop now

no no no please

make the pain stop make it stop leave me alone please don't kill me _please!_

nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo 

* * *

eternities later

when strong Hork-Bajir hands wrap around his mangled shoulders

"_back you dapsen Taxxon freaks"_

when arms wrap around his waist because there's not enough of his legs left to get a grip on

"_you horrible beasts_"

"_are you all right?"_

"_of course he's not all right what kind of question even is that"_

"_Esplin are you in there talk to me!"_

"_it's safe to leave his host now tell him that"_

"_Esplin release your host, it's okay now, the Taxxons have retreated"_

"_look at him, I don't know if he's even hearing you"_

"_Esplin, leave your host, it's about to die, you'll be safe, I've got you, just get _out!_"_


	13. Metamorphosis

After what seemed like an eternity, the small gray Yeerk emerged from the ear of his mangled host and dropped into the cupped hands of Esplin the secondary, not a moment too soon—for within a few minutes the host itself shuddered and died.

"That was much, _much_ too close," Hekliss gasped, lowering the Hork-Bajir's shoulders to the ground. "Do you see what I mean?" she demanded of Tarak. "If we hadn't been there! If you hadn't been close enough to recognize Korliss! If you hadn't thought to come and mention it to us, and if I hadn't thought to be suspicious of those two going off alone together!"

"Not to mention the fact that there happened to be an available car for us to take," Esplin secondary said grimly. "Otherwise we'd never have gotten here in time."

"Yes! Exactly!" She glared at the grayish wet thing in her brother's Hork-Bajir hands. "You! You are officially the Yeerk who survives _everything!_ How in the great pool of Udra do you manage to get yourself into situations like this?!"

"He can't hear you," Tarak pointed out.

She rounded on him. "I _know_ he can't hear me, you imbecile. This is for _my _benefit, not his." Her body sagged suddenly. "I—I just—that was _much too close._"

"It was," Esplin secondary said quietly, staring at the brother he held protectively.

No one said anything for a moment.

"Well, what do we do with this?" Tarak asked finally, holding up his end of the Hork-Bajir body.

"Leave it to the Taxxons, I guess," Hekliss said with a shudder.

"No!" barked Esplin secondary.

The other two gaped at him.

"No, we must not leave it here," Esplin stated more calmly. "There has been an assassination attempt on our sub-visser. This body is the evidence. With it we will get Visser Two's attention much more effectively than we would otherwise."

He fixed a resolute stare upon each of them in turn. "We must go back to the pool and report what we have seen. Korliss has committed a crime … and now he must answer for it."

* * *

The Yeerk pool.

Warm.

Familiar.

Safe.

Esplin swam around aimlessly, trying simultaneously to wrap his mind around what had happened and to purge it from his memory.

Unnatural to feel so weak, so defenseless, to cower in terror in the face of an oncoming threat. It was just _wrong_. He'd always been the courageous one, the one who would playfully mock any timidity on the part of his friends. He wasn't a complete stranger to fear, of course, he'd been afraid from time to time, but he'd always gotten through it.

Never before had fear become this crippling, paralyzing monster.

_You are all right,_ he tried to tell himself. _You survived. Just like you always do. Your twin and Hekliss and Tarak were there when you needed them. They always are._

(but they almost weren't)

He tried to silence that thought, but could not suppress vivid images of the horror that had almost transpired. An involuntary tremor overtook his Yeerk body.

No, he was not all right.

* * *

The summons to the infestation pier came. For the first time in his life, Esplin wasn't sure whether he wanted to leave the pool … but there was no way he was going to let anyone know that, so he advanced into the proffered Hork-Bajir ear.

Until now, Esplin's Hork-Bajir hosts had always come straight from their own world, the experience of Yeerk control utterly new to them. This Hork-Bajir was different. Its memories were jumbled, fragmented, not well comprehended by its simple mind, but the images contained Yeerk technology and Taxxon scenery instead of the Hork-Bajir forests. Esplin briefly noted this, then focused on gaining control of the new host as quickly as possible, letting the memories wash over him how they might—

—_the worms fell upon the crippled Hork-Bajir, tearing off and consuming chunks of flesh—_

_no no NO!_

Esplin quickly shut down that image.

_How—?_

And as he delved deeper into the Hork-Bajir's memories, he began to understand.

This host had belonged to Korliss. It had witnessed all that Korliss had done, all that Korliss had seen, though it did not understand much of it—it took considerable effort on Esplin's part to make coherent sense of the Hork-Bajir's perception of events—but that didn't matter. What mattered was that Korliss had been apprehended and subsequently stripped of his host.

Good.

"How are you doing?" Hekliss demanded.

Esplin jerked his head up to see her and Tarak and Esplin secondary, watching him intently.

"They gave me Korliss's host," he said.

"Of course they did," his twin replied. "It was the only spare Hork-Bajir host there was."

He processed that. "So where is Korliss now?"

"I believe the visser wants to speak with you about that. I can take you to him."

Sudden movement—a Taxxon!

Esplin panicked, froze, stifled a shriek … but the fat worm had already scuttled on by.

Of course. It was only a Taxxon-Controller, and Esplin was now in a perfectly functional, non-paralyzed Hork-Bajir body. Taxxons were no threat to him at all anymore.

He shot an embarrassed glance at the others to see if they'd noticed. Their behavior gave no indication of it … and yet he still perceived pity in their eyes.

He had to pull himself together. Had to act normal. This couldn't go on. He was Sub-Visser Seven! He wasn't supposed to be this pathetic, frightened mess.

And yet … as he looked around the vicinity of the pool, the less rational part of his mind was convinced that every Taxxon-Controller could turn on him at any moment, that every Hork-Bajir-Controller could be plotting his downfall as Korliss had. Even the various machines and other structures that surrounded the pool seemed like a sinister threat.

He squeezed his eyes shut, telling himself to stop imagining things.

"Brother?"

He met Esplin secondary's questioning gaze.

"I said, Visser Two requests an audience with you. Regarding Korliss."

Korliss.

Korliss was the reason for all of this.

The reason for the consuming paranoia.

The reason he could hardly feign the confidence that had always come so naturally to him.

The reason his friends now pitied him.

"Take me to him," Esplin said.

* * *

"It has come to my attention," said the visser, "that the Yeerk called Korliss-Seven-Seven-Six-Four is guilty of attempted assassination of a superior officer, in addition to vandalizing a valuable Hork-Bajir host."

Esplin said nothing, just waited, standing still as a rock, trying to hide the fact that his nerves were all over the place, trying to project nothing less than absolute competence.

"The penalty, of course, is death by Kandrona starvation."

Esplin had expected nothing less, but he still felt a fierce satisfaction. Korliss would definitely come to regret what he'd done.

"I think it would be appropriate for _you_, Sub-Visser, to oversee this procedure."

"Me?" Esplin blurted, about to protest that executions were not his area of expertise—but he swallowed the words, for now he could make absolutely sure that Korliss got his comeuppance. He wasn't about to throw that away.

"Yes. I trust that you will make the punishment quite effective."

"Yes, Visser," said Esplin. "I will."

* * *

"Brother, I need you to do something for me," Esplin said insistently. "I need you to pull up all the documents or recordings you can find that have to do with Kandrona starvation techniques—or with Gedd physiology."

"_Gedd_ physiology?" Esplin secondary repeated.

"Korliss has been put in a Gedd host for the duration of his execution," the primary twin explained. "Protocol dictates that the hosts of starved Yeerks be subsequently eliminated—"

"—and Gedds are far more expendable than Hork-Bajir," Esplin secondary finished. "That's logical enough. All right then, give me some time and I'll see what I can hunt down for you."

* * *

Chained to the wall inside a small, out-of-the-way building that served as a holding cell, a miserable Korliss waited.

Knowing things had gone horribly awry.

Knowing the terrible fate that awaited him.

But the first pangs of starvation were still a few hours away, and for now he could forget, could try to pretend he was somewhere else …

… until a very familiar Hork-Bajir came walking in.

"Hello, Korliss," the newcomer smirked. "Recognize me?"

"Rrrr-that's rr-_my_ host!" Korliss burst out, mentally cursing the Gedd's inability to enunciate properly.

"Oh yes, I have your host now," came the low whisper, which rose suddenly into a harsh hiss. "Thanks to you rendering _mine_ completely worthless!"

Korliss's breath caught in his throat. "Esplin!"

"That's right." Esplin leaned over menacingly, bending his snakelike head down until his front horn was an inch from Korliss's sloped forehead. "Your fate is in _my_ hands now … and I swear by the Kandrona itself, I will _destroy_ you. I will make you _suffer_."

Korliss quailed, for though he had long hated and feared Esplin, never until now had he witnessed such cruel, focused vengeance from the other Yeerk … and even worse, such intensely cold eagerness, a barely-restrained glee at the prospect of inflicting pain.

Esplin grasped Korliss's shoulders harshly, digging his claws into the flesh just hard enough to draw the faintest trickle of blood.

"I have just this to say to you, Korliss: Who wins now? Tell me, _who wins now?!_"

Korliss didn't answer.

* * *

They shackled Korliss to a post in the middle of the infestation pier, surrounded by the thousands of Yeerks who were drinking in the very nourishment that had been denied him.

Soon he was well into the throes of Kandrona starvation, and not natural Kandrona starvation either, which lasted mere hours. No, Esplin had done his research thoroughly. He had learned how to allow Korliss just enough Kandrona to keep him on the very edge of starvation as the days dragged into weeks and even months.

The greatest suffering a Yeerk could know.

But to Esplin, that wasn't enough.

* * *

"Rrr-what arrrre you _doing!_" hissed Korliss, his Gedd voice hoarse, wracked with pain.

Esplin gave him a knowing smile as he sank a wrist blade ever-so-slowly into Korliss's right thigh muscle. Then, with a swift practiced movement, he sliced down Korliss's leg, stripping flesh and sinew from bone as if it were bark from a tree.

Korliss screamed.

"What am I doing?" Esplin whispered, slashing a second chunk off Korliss's leg. "I'm doing exactly what you did to me. Did you see my host body when the Taxxons were done with it? Were you watching as they tore it to pieces? _That's_" —another slice— "what I'm doing to _you!_"

Korliss could only stare in speechless horror.

Finally, Esplin sliced through the bone itself, leaving nothing but a stump. Then he used his handheld Dracon beam to cauterize the wound, because he wasn't ready for Korliss to die yet. There was much more in store for him …

* * *

"Don't you think he's going a little overboard?" Tarak said to Esplin secondary.

"A _little!_" cried Hekliss incredulously. "This is way beyond what is necessary! What does he think he's doing?"

"He has to make an example of Korliss," Esplin secondary explained. "It's more effective if he's a little … theatrical … about it."

"But it looks like he's _enjoying_ it!"

"He _needs_ it to look that way," Esplin said patiently. "He has to show that he won't hesitate to make people suffer. It's the only thing that will frighten them enough so that no one will dare try to assassinate him ever again."

"Oh, he's frightening people all right—he's scaring _me_ quite effectively_._"

"You?" Esplin looked at her, surprised. "You're his sister. One of us. We would never hurt him, so we have nothing to fear. In case you forgot, Korliss _tried to kill him._ That's what this is about."

* * *

Hekliss couldn't watch any more. She glanced at Tarak, and realized he felt much the same way, so in silent agreement the two of them slipped quietly away from the pool.

Esplin the secondary twin, on the other hand, felt compelled to stay and watch. He wasn't sure if it was out of concern for his brother or simple morbid curiosity or something else; he just felt absolutely certain he needed to witness this.

* * *

The days turned into weeks, and Esplin divested Korliss of his other leg, then each arm in turn, and all the while he took plenty of opportunities to strike Korliss with his fists, to prick him with claws … anything to hurt him more, without inadvertently hastening his death in the process.

The object of the game now was to simply cause as much suffering as possible.

And there was no doubt Esplin was winning.

* * *

Hekliss gave Esplin secondary a desperate look. "I—I tried to talk to him about something, you know, nothing important, just some basic logistical matter … and he just looked right through me like I wasn't even there. He didn't _see_ me, Esplin!"

"You _know_ my twin," Esplin secondary said. "You _know_ how he gets fixated on one thing, even to the point of ignoring the rest of us. It'll pass. It always does."

"Some fixation this is—torturing someone to death," Hekliss muttered.

Esplin opened his mouth to speak.

"And I know there's a reason for it. You've explained it quite thoroughly. That doesn't mean I have to like it."

* * *

Korliss was in the depths of the fugue now, wailing and shrieking madly, his Gedd body thoroughly mutilated.

And through it all Esplin primary looked on, mocking him, relishing every agonized scream.

* * *

Tarak let out a sigh. "I know why he's doing this, I understand what happened to him, but I … I just want my friend back."

"You'll _get_ him back," Esplin secondary said earnestly. "He'll be all right. This is just what he needs to do to _be_ all right. It's almost over now."

* * *

Every Controller near the pool seemed to know that Korliss's last moments were near. The limbless, paralyzed husk of a Gedd gave a shudder, and a gray Yeerk slowly, weakly schlooped out of the ear, trembled a little itself, then went limp—and crumbled into powder.

"It's _done_," Esplin whispered triumphantly.

He stood up straight on the infestation pier.

"Listen up, all of you! Everyone take note—_this_ is what happens to those who would betray the Empire!" _And me_, was what he didn't add … but the unspoken message was quite clear.

A Taxxon-Controller ventured close and began hissing in its own language.

"You wait!" barked Esplin. "Wait until I am clear of the pier! Then yes, you may feed on that husk."

Moments later, eager Taxxons converged upon what was left of the Gedd as Esplin tried not to watch.

* * *

"You have surpassed my expectations, Sub-Visser Seven," remarked Visser Two approvingly. "You apparently have quite a flair for intimidation. I don't think there's a Yeerk left on the planet who isn't afraid of you."

Esplin listened, fascinated. During his time as a sub-visser, he'd used plenty of threats to keep his subordinates in line, but the idea of striking fear into their hearts because of his reputation alone, simply because of _who he was_ …

Well, if the visser's estimation was accurate, Esplin now wielded an entirely new power.

And he had to admit he kind of liked it.

"I'm putting you in charge of security," Visser Two declared. "You'll still have some of your old duties, namely dealing with rebel Taxxons. But I'm also giving you the authority to address any type of security breach, whether by traitors amongst our own people or by Andalite infiltrators."

Esplin's ears perked up. "Andalites?"

"You haven't heard? The Andalites have been spying on our people using the same morphing technology they employed on the Hork-Bajir world. They haven't reached this planet yet, of course, but it's only a matter of time."

He felt a rush of excitement. Of course, there was no guarantee he would encounter Andalite spies anytime soon—but on the whole this was good news, for he still secretly wished for an Andalite host, though recent events had all but driven the thought from his mind. Perhaps, just perhaps, he would get to become the first Andalite-Controller after all.

* * *

Much later, a mag-lev car zoomed first along an open-air track and then through a tunnel before coming smoothly and silently to a stop.

Esplin secondary peered out from inside the car. "This is the exact same cavern where the whole thing happened," he observed. "Are you sure you're up for this?"

"Yes," said Esplin primary, opening the door and looking out over the seething mass of Taxxons. Instantly, his head swam, and he very nearly lost his nerve—but he flexed his knees, slashed at the air with his arm blades, and reminded himself that he and his brother were more than a match for the group of ravenous worms below. "I have to do it. I'll be all right. Trust me."

"Okay then. Ready?"

"Yes. On my signal … _now!_"

Esplin shut his eyes and leaped.

* * *

_Ssslash! Ssslash!_

Taxxons dropped left and right, splitting open like overfilled bags of goo.

"Yes!" Esplin exulted. "Look at this! Look how easily they fall! Hah-_hah!_"

"Don't get too carried away," his twin reminded him. "In case you forgot, these _are_ our allies. We don't want to kill them all."

Reluctantly, Esplin left the carnage and clambered back up the steep slope to the mag-lev track, his brother following closely behind. Below, the Taxxons who were still intact eagerly gobbled up the remains of their fellows.

"Well, at least we fed them," he laughed. "They can't complain now."

* * *

In some ways, things gradually returned to normal.

With the death of Korliss, Esplin felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders … and since he'd thoroughly dissuaded other Yeerks from following in Korliss's footsteps, he no longer feared betrayal—at least, not most of the time. Still, his relationship with Evros had become rather strained. After all, if it weren't for him, Esplin wouldn't have gotten into the mag-lev car with Korliss in the first place.

As far as Esplin could tell from his own host's memories, the Taxxon-Controller had not been privy to Korliss's plot—but Esplin didn't entirely trust the Hork-Bajir's simplistic interpretation of events, and he couldn't quite seem to put together the full picture of what had happened. Not to his satisfaction, anyway.

When Esplin's ankle blade happened to nick Evros during a skirmish with rebel Taxxons, no one thought it was anything but an accident.

After all, Taxxons die ridiculously easily.


	14. Second Chances

"It wasn't easy, but I finally determined who it was that had managed to bypass the security protocol," Esplin secondary was saying. "Joran-Nine-Two-One. He's a laborer at Production Facility Twelve. Needless to say, Visser Two wants him apprehended as quickly as possible."

"Joran-Nine-Two-One at Production Facility Twelve," Esplin primary repeated. "All right. I'll deal with him. Will you come with me? That way I can leave more of my guards here at the spaceport."

"Okay," his twin agreed. "Just let me—

"Sssnnnrreewaaaaaa!"

The twins looked up just in time to see a Taxxon tumble from the mag-lev track above.

Esplin primary was currently overseeing a security team that guarded one of their main spaceports on the Taxxon world. Here, a myriad of mag-lev tracks laced all around the various docking ports, transporting passengers and supplies to and from the ships. The Taxxon had fallen from an open-top car on one of the elevated tracks leading up to a cradle that held an enormous Pool ship. Upon hitting the ground, his sides burst open, and eager Taxxons came scurrying from all directions to get in on the feast.

Then, curiously, one Taxxon came barreling past Esplin.

_Away_ from the body.

That could only mean one thing: this was no true Taxxon.

In the months since Korliss's death, Esplin had encountered quite a few Andalite spies in Taxxon morph. Their resistance to the Taxxons' natural instincts was always a dead giveaway. He had never yet succeeded in capturing any of them, however—they usually ended up getting themselves killed before he had the chance. The one time he had come very close to capturing a live Andalite, the proud warrior had slit his own throat with his tail blade.

The Andalites were known throughout the galaxy for their exaggerated concept of honor, a trait Esplin both admired and scorned.

"Forget that Joran fool," he whispered. "We have Andalite penetration!"

* * *

He quickly assembled the rest of his guard. Together they converged on the false Taxxon, who had taken refuge under the Pool ship's cradle.

"Welcome to the Taxxon home world. I am Sub-Visser Seven," Esplin said brightly. He made a show of peering intriguedly at the Taxxon. "You interest me. Yes, indeed. I am very interested in any Taxxon who will not eat fresh meat."

The Taxxon said nothing, though it cowered visibly.

Training their Dracon beams on their new prisoner, the Hork-Bajir-Controllers prodded him along as they followed Esplin to the nearest mag-lev car.

"Everyone off!" Esplin barked.

Hork-Bajir and Taxxons scampered out. Satisfied, Esplin boarded the car, his guards close behind him.

There were a total of seven Hork-Bajir-Controllers now aboard—Esplin himself, his twin brother, and the five Hork-Bajir who comprised his original security team. Hekliss and Tarak were two of these five. Ever since the incident with Korliss and the Taxxons, Esplin made sure that either Hekliss or Tarak or both of them always accompanied him. After all, they had proven themselves quite capable of handling a crisis. And though he would admit it to no one, he felt much safer with them around.

Seven Hork-Bajir and the ten-foot-long worm made for one crowded vehicle, but to Esplin it was worth it. There was no such thing as too much backup when you were up against an Andalite.

Although this Andalite didn't seem to pose much of a challenge, being alone in a vulnerable morph. Esplin sighed, staring out at the passing scenery. He could all too easily see this Andalite going the way of the others he had caught ... perhaps provoking one of the Hork-Bajir into killing him. After all, it was near impossible to incapacitate a Taxxon in a way that wouldn't be lethal.

_You're not assured of that yet,_ he told himself. _There's still a chance. Maybe this Andalite won't cling so tightly to his honor as the others did._

Well, there was only one way to find out.

"So, Andalite, how long have you been in this morph?"

"Ssssewwaari ssstwweeeshh," came the reply. Gibberish as far as Taxxon speech went. If Esplin hadn't been convinced of the Taxxon's true identity before, he certainly was now.

But apparently, the Andalite didn't know this. Apparently he thought there was a chance he could still fool them.

Esplin decided to play with him a little. Just to make things more interesting. "Don't waste that snake-speak on me. If you're one of us, you'll be able to speak _Galard."_

Of course, there was not a chance in a dark moon that the Taxxon's mouth could form _Galard_ syllables, and the Andalite remained silent.

Esplin laughed. "So. You want to resist me? Good. I need the entertainment. It's rather dull, being in charge of security for this sector. I suppose you're one of the rebels. One of those mountain Taxxons who refuse to join the Empire. Well, we'll get to the truth quickly enough."

He paused. They were getting close, nearing the enormous mound over which numerous Taxxons crawled, disappearing into and reemerging from tunnels in its sides. Unlike the rebels' Living Hive, this one was nothing more than an inert pile of dirt, although thanks to the swarming Taxxons it _looked_ like a living, seething mass. Esplin glanced at the Andalite, who looked appropriately horrified—whereas a normal Taxxon would think nothing of seeing so many of his fellows in one place.

"Rebels are just fresh meat," he told the Andalite. "But being a Taxxon, you understand. Any rebels we catch go to feed loyal Taxxons. It's sad, really. But I have no choice." That, at least, was true. For a while following his own near-fatal encounter with Taxxons, Esplin had enjoyed taking the rebels' fates into his own hands, but Visser Two eventually reprimanded him for not following protocol. "It's one of the idiotic regulations I have to deal with. It's all part of our deal with the Taxxons: Any suspect Taxxon is turned over to loyal Taxxons for interrogation. Of course, Taxxons don't really interrogate. They don't have the patience for it. They ask one or two questions, then … well, then it's dinnertime."

A shudder rippled through the Taxxon body.

"Of course, you could tell me why you're here, and what your mission really is … _Andalite_," Esplin said with a grin as his prisoner jerked in surprise. "You'll still be executed, of course. But I can make it painless. Much better than being eaten alive."

When the Taxxon still didn't respond, Esplin leaned in conspiratorially. "There is one other possibility. This Hork-Bajir body I use is fine, but there are millions of Hork-Bajir-Controllers now." A slight exaggeration, thanks to the quantum virus, but of course Esplin had never been known for his precision. "And what are my other choices? To go back to being a Gedd? Or to take a Taxxon body? No thanks. I won't live with that Taxxon hunger."

He paused. The open Taxxon desert disappeared as the car entered one of the tunnels.

"There is one other possibility, Andalite," Esplin repeated, growing more eager by the second. "There has never been an Andalite-Controller. None of us has ever succeeded in capturing an Andalite alive. Your warriors use that nasty Andalite tail blade on themselves rather than be taken alive." He grinned. "Such a waste. Really. See, I want to be the first to have an Andalite body. With that body, with the Andalite morphing power, I wouldn't remain a sub-visser for long. I could be a full visser."

The Taxxon gave another surprised jolt.

"Let me take that Andalite body. You'll live. It's the _only_ way you'll live," Esplin pointed out, peering closely at the Andalite-Taxxon's red gelatinous eyes, waiting anxiously for a response.

Finally it came. ‹My name is Elfangor, Yeerk. Remember the name. You'll be hearing it again. But you will never take me alive.›

Typical Andalite. Esplin shouldn't have expected anything different, really, but his disappointment was all too keen anyway. "A pity," he replied with a caustic, bitter sneer. "Stop the car!"

The car slid to a stop.

"Open the door."

The guards did so, and as Esplin looked out over the eager crowd of Taxxons below, he congratulated himself for feeling only the tiniest twinge of anxiety. No longer did he have to clamp down on his panic so that no one would notice. Since becoming security chief, he had thrown plenty of rebel Taxxons to their doom in caverns just like this one. He was used to this scene now.

The Andalite, of course, was not.

"See them?" Esplin mocked him. "Taxxons. Not Yeerks. No, those are Taxxons in their natural state. Unimproved, you might say. As savage and bloodthirsty as any creature in the galaxy." He glanced at the other Hork-Bajir-Controllers. "Throw him out."

* * *

The Taxxon hadn't even hit the ground when the first Andalite features began to emerge from its form.

But it was still plenty Taxxon enough for its sides to split open upon impact, and the other Taxxons eagerly converged upon the helpless worm.

Soon agonized thought-speak cries were cutting through everyone's minds. Esplin looked on, harboring a minute hope that the Andalite might call for surrender even now.

Slippery Taxxon skin melted into blue Andalite fur, and yet the Taxxons went on ripping away at the flesh, pausing only momentarily to note the new texture.

Then suddenly—

_Ssslash!_

A whipping bladed tail brought the Taxxons up short.

The Andalite finished his morph, his bleeding flesh becoming strong and whole again. He whipped his tail again, and this time the blade met its target, slicing effortlessly through wobbly Taxxon flesh.

Esplin was stunned. The Andalites' morphing ability had more uses than he'd ever dreamed! One minute, the Andalite was being torn to pieces as a Taxxon … and yet here he stood, completely unscathed, tearing into the Taxxons like nothing had happened.

He couldn't help laughing in sheer amazement. It was incredible. He simply had to possess such a body. Had to!

Then he got a grip on himself—after all, he couldn't allow the Andalite to escape. He ordered the guards to shoot.

But the Andalite was clever. He leaped in among the mass of Taxxons who were busily feeding upon their wounded brethren, shielding himself with their bodies.

"Go in after him," Esplin encouraged the others. "Cut him to pieces!"

He watched with satisfaction as they leaped down into the fray. The Taxxon bodies wouldn't stop their blades, and a lone Andalite against six Hork-Bajir was no contest at all.

"Back, you Taxxon _hogren kalach!"_ someone cursed in Hork-Bajir—Tarak, by the sound of it.

They converged on where the Andalite had been—but there was no trace of him now. Instead a strange winged creature rose up from amid the worms.

Another morph again? So quickly? That was possible?

The creature flapped to get air, soaring right over the heads of the Hork-Bajir guards.

The Andalite was escaping!

"Shoot it!" Esplin yelled frantically. "Shoot it!"

"But the Taxxons may be hit!" Hekliss protested.

Esplin shot her an exasperated look. "I really don't care, shoot!"

The guards fired their Dracon beams wildly. All missed.

"Shoot! Kill it! SHOOOOOT!"

But the Andalite was gone.

* * *

"The Taxxons may be hit? _The Taxxons may be hit?_ Honestly, Hekliss, you really think I care about a bunch of Taxxons when we have an _Andalite_ on the loose?"

"Those are _our_ Taxxons," Hekliss pointed out.

Esplin threw up his arms. "They're not even Controllers!"

"You are talking to the person who went and sliced up a bunch of ally Taxxons just to prove he could," Esplin secondary told her.

"When was _that?_"

"Why, right after he almost got—"

"_That never happened_," Esplin primary snapped.

Esplin secondary stared at him. "Oookay, brother. Okay. If you say so."

"Ssssssssrrrrrreeeeeeeeee!" screamed the Taxxons.

Esplin primary sighed. "Now look. They're all riled up because they got cheated out of a meal." He looked at two of the Hork-Bajir guards. "You and you. Go settle them down. The rest of you come with me," he said, heading back toward the car. "We've got an Andalite to catch."

* * *

No sooner did their train emerge into daylight than an amazing sight greeted their eyes.

It was an Andalite fighter … but larger and sleeker than any fighter Esplin had ever seen, stylistically elongated, with three engines instead of the customary two. It was slowly descending in the direction of the nearby spaceport.

"The Andalites are landing!" he yelled. "Prepare for battle!"

Controllers from all directions circled around the fighter, their weapons aimed. Esplin and his four remaining guards—his three friends, plus some nobody whose name was Iniss something-or-other—leaped out of the car, their eyes trained on the alien craft as it settled into the docking port.

A seeming eternity of a wait, and then … the hatch opened.

But the creature who stepped out was no Andalite.

Indeed, it was something no Yeerk had ever seen before.

* * *

In physical structure, it was perhaps most similar to a Gedd, but instead of hobbling along with one fist on the ground, it stood completely upright on its two legs, without even a tail to aid its balance.

It had odd patchworked skin—no, on closer examination, that wasn't skin. The creature wore _garments_. Like the few Ongachic minstrels the Yeerks had managed to capture early on.

It wore a small robe cut off just below the waist, and underneath that a more complex garment that roughly followed the contours of its legs. Its true skin was a dull pale brownish-pink color, mostly hairless except for a tuft of brown fur atop its head. Its eyes were similar to Andalite eyes, but less sharply angled and more dully colored. Its nose protruded oddly from its otherwise flat face, and its small soft mouth was edged with pink.

The creature began to speak in a strange, alien language. In some distant part of his mind, Esplin realized he should probably call for a translator pad, but like everyone else he was transfixed by this oddity who had emerged from an enemy spacecraft.

Meanwhile, the alien had realized its attempt to communicate wasn't going over successfully, so it began to use gestures. It pushed its hands slowly toward the Yeerks; then, just as slowly, it pulled them back toward its own body.

"It wants to trade," Esplin realized, laughing wildly. "This strange creature wants to trade." He shot an amused glance back at the others, then looked at the newcomer. "So. What do you have to trade, alien?"

Holding its hands level with its face, the creature stepped back into the ship … and reemerged with a prisoner. This being was similar to the first, yet slightly smaller, with a much larger yellow tuft of fur that poured wildly from its head. Once again, the first creature spoke in its unintelligible language, but this time Esplin was pretty sure he understood its intentions.

This alien had just offered its kind as a new host species for the Yeerks.

_Well_, thought Esplin. _This day just got a whole lot better._


	15. Preparations

The security team eventually did procure a translator pad, but it was to no avail, for the alien stared at it cluelessly.

"What kind of creature can fly an Andalite ship but cannot operate a Skrit Na translator?" Esplin wondered. He turned to the others. "If these two truly do represent a potential host species, I need to know details. And evidently we are not going to get anywhere by standing around talking. There is only one thing for it—I need to access this creature's mind directly. Take them to the pool."

* * *

The creature's ear canal was a tighter squeeze than Esplin was used to, so by the time he reached its brain he was thoroughly impatient.

As always, he checked the eyes first. This host perceived color more vividly than a Hork-Bajir, but the Taxxon world tended to be drab in color anyway, so Esplin didn't get as excited as he might have otherwise. Still, he lingered for a moment, appreciating the enhanced hues around him before moving on to the other senses.

The creature's hearing was inferior to a Hork-Bajir's, but better than a Gedd's. Its sense of smell was barely functional, though. Then again, on the Taxxon world that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Now to look through the creature's memories. It referred to its own species as _humans;_ this particular specimen was a juvenile named Hedrick Chapman. Surprisingly, it had only recently learned of the existence of life beyond its home world, after being kidnapped by Skrit Na raiders. Before that came memories of growing up in a wild, inexplicable culture, more advanced than that of the Hork-Bajir but still woefully primitive. Those memories were of no interest to Esplin.

No, he was focused on more recent events. Two young Andalites had boarded the Skrit Na ship and taken custody of the humans. They were _arisths_—mere cadets in the Andalite military. The one named Arbron was small and quick with suspicious orange eyes. The larger one had bright green eyes and appeared stronger, but carried himself awkwardly; he was called Elfangor—_ah yes, my escaped prisoner,_ thought Esplin.

So what was an _aristh_ doing in morph on the Taxxon world?

Closer inspection provided the answer. They were tracking down a second Skrit Na ship, trying to recover … _what?_

No way. Could it really be?

_The Time Matrix!_

The fabled weapon, the time machine of Andalite myth, it was _real_, it was _here_—

‹Was that you?›

Apparently the force of Esplin's surprised thought had been such that even the host—Chapman—had heard him.

Esplin ignored him. He had more important things to worry about.

But Chapman was persistent. ‹I just heard your thought. You should be hearing mine too, right?›

‹Yes, human. I see _all_ your thoughts. Now be quiet.›

‹Hey! I just did you a favor here. And also. You know about the Time Matrix?›

‹What part of "I see all your thoughts" do you not understand?› Esplin replied testily.

Chapman was blessedly quiet for a moment.

So. The Time Matrix was here on the Taxxon world. Back at the spaceport. Still in the custody of the Skrit Na … unless the Andalites had apprehended it already.

So how many Andalites were here? It appeared there were only three: the two _arisths_, and their commander, a war-prince.

A war-prince Esplin recognized from Aldrea's memory, during his all-too-brief presence in her mind.

Alloran-Semitur-Corrass.

Creator of the Quantum virus.

Far more powerfully built than either of the _arisths_, Alloran cut an imposing figure. His blue fur was almost metallic-looking, and his eyes were a steely deep blue as well. He was no larger than the average adult Andalite male, yet even the alien Chapman couldn't help but find him intimidating.

_By the Kandrona itself_, Esplin realized. _That could be _me!_ That could be _my_ body!_

He nearly fell over with excitement—an easy thing to do with Chapman's awkward, tottering human form. This ridiculous body didn't even have a tail to help it balance.

No matter. If all went well, he would soon have four legs _and_ a tail. He just needed to find a way to make it happen—

‹So what happens now?› Chapman asked abruptly.

‹I am _not_ interested in conversing with you, all right?› Esplin snapped. ‹I. See. Your. Thoughts. I see everything I need to know. I don't need you to talk to me.›

‹Well okay then,› Chapman said, sounding wounded. He considered for a moment. At this point he could sort of understand all the warnings the Andalites had given him, not that he would ever tell _them_ that. He had intended to trade with the Yeerks, but all he'd had to offer was the girl called Loren, the ship, and his own knowledge—and now the Yeerks had all three, while he had as yet received nothing from them.

Wait.

Maybe that wasn't _all_ he had to offer.

‹You don't need me to talk to you,› Chapman said, ‹but you _do_ need me to be quiet. Apparently I can annoy you and you can't do a damn thing about it. So. I'll shut up for now, but just remember that you'll benefit most if you keep me in a cooperative mood. In other words, don't be a dick.›

Esplin groaned inwardly. This was easily the most obnoxious host he'd ever had. No matter. If he had his way, he would soon be moving on to better things.

* * *

After seeing the alien speak nothing intelligible and then fumble hopelessly with the translator pad, it was a little eerie when flawless Galard suddenly came out of its mouth.

"Listen," said the creature Esplin had become. "I have a plan, or the beginnings of one anyway, but I need some help."

"A plan to do _what,_ exactly?" Hekliss asked suspiciously.

"Two things: First, there is currently a device on this planet called the Time Matrix. A _fully functional time machine_. If we can get our hands on that—" The flat alien face broke into what must have passed for a grin. "The war with the Andalites will effectively be over. We'll be unstoppable."

"And the second thing?" Esplin secondary queried.

"Why, get myself an Andalite host, of course." Esplin primary smirked. "I've had my efforts thwarted too many times already. I'm _going_ to make it happen this time."

"So what's your plan?"

"This host doesn't know enough for me to figure out a detailed plan yet. So. Here's what we do: We infest both humans—that's what these aliens are called—and head back to the Andalite ship. When the Andalites return, we will go along with them and see what we can learn."

Hekliss narrowed her eyes. "That's your brilliant plan? You're just going to wait for them at the spaceport like nothing ever happened? These are Andalites, not Hork-Bajir. They're going to suspect something."

Looking highly offended, Esplin opened his mouth to say something, but just then his brother cut in.

"I have an idea," he said. "Why don't I infest your Hork-Bajir host body? Then I can pose as you and provide a distraction. Besides, if the Andalites think you're _me_, they at least won't suspect _you_ of controlling one of the aliens."

"That's actually not a bad idea," Esplin primary said thoughtfully. He looked at Hekliss and Tarak. "So. Somebody needs to infest the other human. Who's it going to be?"

* * *

Tarak 9375 had been one of Esplin's security guards for months now, but it had always been rather dull work. And it was strange to be constantly ordered around by someone who had been his close friend for years. Not that Esplin was excessively domineering or anything, he wasn't, not toward his own friends anyway. It was just that as the only non-sibling, Tarak had always felt himself to be the most extraneous one of their group. The least vital member. And the fact that he was now lumped in with the rest of Esplin's low-ranking subordinates didn't help matters.

He sometimes wished he could have found his own niche in the Empire, like each of the twins had apparently done. Or, failing that, he wished he was more like the ever-adaptable Hekliss, who found ways to make herself indispensable no matter what task she was given.

But now—Now was an opportunity. Now Tarak had the chance to be an integral part of Esplin's special operation. And it would be new and exciting and would involve creatures he'd never encountered before.

How could he pass it up?

"I'll do it," he said.

* * *

While Tarak and Esplin secondary were busy transferring hosts, Esplin primary took his sister aside.

"Hekliss, you stay on the ground and keep an eye on us," he instructed. "Because every dapsen time I've tried this so far, it's ended with me falling out of a ship. Maybe I'm being superstitious but there's no harm in taking extra precautions."

"Extra precautions … " Hekliss mused. "How about if I get a Bug fighter ready to launch? Then I'll have weapons, I'll be able to move quickly, we'll be better prepared for anything that might go wrong."

"Perfect. But don't take off right away or the Andalites will think you're pursuing them. We don't want them to try and shoot you down."

* * *

Once he was fully in control of his brother's former host, Esplin secondary immediately set about assembling a small army. No other Yeerks outside their small security team had been informed of the plot, so as far as these warriors were concerned, the Hork-Bajir-Controller giving them orders _was_ their sub-visser.

_So much the better, _Esplin secondary thought. It would simply make the ruse that much more effective. Besides, he had to admit he rather enjoyed this newfound sense of power. So _this_ was how his brother felt all the time!

Hekliss sidled up to him. "You know that for this to work, you have to act like him, not like you," she said quietly. "You've got to be animated, excitable … and more than a little full of yourself."

Esplin secondary looked affronted. "No one knows my brother better than I do," he reminded her. "I assure you I can impersonate him quite effectively."

"I'm just making sure," she said. "There's no such thing as taking too many precautions when you're dealing with Andalites. Your brother himself admitted as much. That's why I'm going to be manning a Bug fighter while all this is happening. Just in case there's an immediate need for firepower or maneuverability."

"Good," Esplin secondary replied. "Looks like we're about as prepared as we can be."

* * *

A single mag-lev car swiftly carried two human-Controllers and two Hork-Bajir-Controllers back to the spaceport, for Hekliss had enlisted the help of the other security guard in operating the Bug fighter. When the time came, he would man the weapons station.

Right now, though, there was not much for them to do but wait … and wonder what the upcoming encounter would hold.

Tarak, however, had plenty to occupy him. The human called Loren was absolutely fascinating. Her near-constant threats and insults had been quite rattling at first, but once Tarak got used to them, he began to admire this spirited, intelligent creature. Definitely a far more exciting host than a Hork-Bajir.

"So Esplin," he said. "What do you think of these host bodies?"

Esplin snorted. "They're not very impressive. No blades … dull teeth … short, flimsy claws … " He idly rubbed his forearm, apparently distressed by the lack of a wrist blade. "These creatures are supposed to be predators, yet they are so poorly equipped for predation! The exact opposite of Andalites and Hork-Bajir, who are quite physically dangerous despite being herbivores."

"But, Esplin, their _minds—_"

"Their minds?" Esplin laughed derisively. "Don't be ridiculous. Their minds are nothing compared to Andalite minds."

"Not all of us have had the opportunity to experience the difference," Tarak groused.

"Well, maybe you will yet. There _are_ three Andalites, after all. We may succeed in capturing more than one of them alive." He shot Tarak a grin that was mischievous and self-mocking and belligerent all at once. "But the war-prince is _mine_."


	16. Enter Alloran

Esplin had expected the Andalites to return to their ship.

He did not, however, expect a sudden, violent attack by rebel Taxxons to precede their arrival.

Nor, when the Andalites did come, did he expect one of them to be driving a bright yellow human vehicle.

‹That's a Mustang,› Chapman said incredulously. ‹An Andalite driving a Mustang! Now I've seen everything.›

Esplin ignored him. He had other things on his mind. Specifically, the mass of ravenous Taxxons pushing and shoving against one another to get up the ramp to the ship's cradle.

He began to feel that there was a very distinct flaw in his plan. For as a human, he had no natural weapons, he had nothing to protect himself from the Taxxons' whirling, tearing teeth …

One Taxxon stood ahead of the others on the ramp, facing them down. As if … as if trying to prevent the other Taxxons from advancing further.

One of the Andalites in morph? Then they were probably safe for now—

—except that the lone Taxxon suddenly whirled around and came barreling toward them, its mouth wide, exposing the circular rows of hundreds of tiny teeth.

Esplin's nerves immediately failed him and he screamed, an eerie high-pitched sound that no Hork-Bajir would ever make …

* * *

The Taxxon suddenly froze.

Its upper body hung there in midair, its mouth poised above Esplin's cringing human body, and yet it _didn't. move._

He felt a strange, slightly sticky fluid drip down his new body's forehead and neck.

And other fluids as well …

‹You peed!› Chapman raged. ‹You made me wet myself! Damn it, you little slug, it's not like I packed a change of clothes!›

‹Shut up, human!› Esplin yelled, still frozen in a protective crouch. He'd automatically raised his thin human arms to fend off the charging Taxxon, and he could feel its hot, foul breath wash over them …

… but several seconds passed and the Taxxon still made no move to attack, so Esplin slowly began to relax.

He realized that at some point the unmorphed Andalite—Elfangor, by the look of him—had leaped from the Mustang onto the ramp. And now, down on the ground, beyond the Taxxons, a very familiar Hork-Bajir was approaching.

Esplin secondary.

Good. Everything was going according to plan.

* * *

The Taxxons quickly fell back from the ramp as the Hork-Bajir-Controllers clambered over them, heedlessly wreaking destruction with their bladed, clawed limbs.

"Ah, so we meet again, Andalite!" cried Esplin secondary in an uncharacteristically upbeat tone. "Elfangor, right? That was the name you yelled so defiantly at me as you escaped. I was so afraid the Taxxons might have gotten to you by now. And I so wanted you all for myself!"

The last of the injured Taxxons cleared the ramp, taking advantage of the momentary lull to get safely away from their voracious comrades.

"Surrender, Elfangor," Esplin secondary continued. "I won't kill you. I'll just … use you. I'll leave this crude body and live inside your head. I'll wrap myself around your smug, arrogant Andalite brain and make you my slave. And with your Andalite morphing power, I'll run the galaxy before I'm done! It's either that or death, Andalite. There's no third choice."

_Okay, _now_ he's overdoing it, _thought Esplin primary nervously.

His Taxxon attacker finally pulled away from him, skittering down the ramp to stand next to Elfangor, and Esplin let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

‹Guess we're a long way from the good old _StarSword_, eh, Elfangor?› the Taxxon thought-spoke. ‹We are one lost, lonely pair of _arisths_. Tell the Yeerk scum to dream on, Elfangor. Tell him we are Andalites. We don't surrender.›

"That Taxxon was an _Andalite?_" muttered Tarak out of the corner of his mouth. "Did he know? Does he suspect us?"

"I think he just lost control of the morph," Esplin hissed back. "Sshhh."

‹You heard my friend, Sub-Visser Seven,› Elfangor was saying. ‹You want me? Come get me.›

Esplin secondary was unfazed. "Okay. I will come get you. Cut him down! Cut him down!"

"He really does do a good impression of you," Tarak whispered.

"I said sshhh!"

Now there was a small skirmish taking place at the base of the ramp. Esplin counted one—no, _two_ Hork-Bajir injured already. But more and more Hork-Bajir crowded onto the ramp, surrounding the two Andalites, blades flashing.

Suddenly one of the Hork-Bajir whirled around. Before anyone knew what was happening, the edge of his wrist blade was up against Esplin secondary's neck.

_Traitor!_ was Esplin primary's first enraged thought.

But that assumption was quickly shattered.

‹Don't move, Yeerk. Don't even breathe. Call off your men. Do it, or I'll laugh when your head goes rolling across the ground,› threatened a distinctly familiar thought-speak voice.

War-Prince Alloran had arrived.

* * *

From inside a nearby fighter, Hekliss watched.

She had set the viewscreen to transparent and modified the audio settings to pick up sound from the immediate surroundings. So she, as well as the security guard whose help she'd enlisted, could clearly see and hear Esplin secondary as he reluctantly ordered the Hork-Bajir warriors to back away.

And of course, the fighter was well within range of the Andalites' public thought-speak.

The human with long yellow head hair—_That's Tarak,_ Hekliss reminded herself—ran to Elfangor and pressed her hands against his chest, saying something incomprehensible. Hekliss briefly wondered about this, but trusted it was in character for Tarak's host.

‹Now here's what we're going to do,› said the Andalite in Hork-Bajir morph who still held Esplin secondary prisoner. ‹The two humans and my two friends and I are going aboard the Jahar. And you, Sub-Visser, are coming with us. Once we're off the cradle, we'll toss you back out. How does that plan sound to you, Yeerk?›

Hekliss's ears perked up at the phrase "toss you back out." _Looks like Esplin was right_, she thought. _Only this time it's his twin who'll be falling out of a ship. Dapsen Andalites, is that the only tactic they know?_

"Do I have a choice?" Esplin secondary said petulantly.

‹There's always a choice, Yeerk. I can cut you right out of that Hork-Bajir and feed your impotent slug body to my friend the Taxxon here. That's one choice. Or you can order your men back down the ramp. All the way down.›

"Whatever became of the Andalite reputation for kindness and gentleness?" sneered Esplin secondary.

‹What happened? Alloran repeated. ‹We left that image in the ashes of the Hork-Bajir home world.›

"You were there?"

‹I was there. My name is Alloran-Semitur-Corrass. War-Prince Alloran.›

Hekliss wasn't familiar with that name, but her brother evidently was, for even through the viewscreen she could see the shocked recognition on his face.

"You heard the Andalite," he said warily. "Get off the ramp. All of you."

When the ramp had been cleared, six creatures began slowly backing toward the ship's hatch. Two Hork-Bajir, one with a savage grasp on the other. Two humans. One Taxxon. And one Andalite.

_Three friends,_ Hekliss thought. _And three enemies._

She turned to her companion, Iniss 226. "Be ready. I have no idea if we'll actually need to do any shooting. But you never know."

Then she looked at him sharply. "And if you do shoot? _Aim for the engines._ My brothers and my friend are in there. The whole point is to keep them alive."

"I get the idea," snapped Iniss, perturbed by Hekliss's sudden animosity.

"Good." She gazed once again at the viewscreen, just in time to see the Andalite ship begin powering up …

* * *

In the end, the Andalite in Taxxon morph had not followed Esplin and the others into the ship.

Esplin wondered about this … but not for long.

‹Did you think I had ended up like Arbron back there?› War-Prince Alloran demanded as his Hork-Bajir body twisted and remolded itself into the familiar Andalite shape. ‹Trapped? A _nothlit?_ No, _Aristh_ Elfangor. I am still myself.›

‹I'm glad, sir,› his young companion replied.

Esplin watched appreciatively as the last of Alloran's Hork-Bajir features melted away, imagining what it would be like to have those ever-roving stalk eyes … those four powerful legs … the great sinuous tail with its scythelike blade.

_Be ready,_ he told himself silently. _The opportunity will come._

* * *

Esplin secondary's eyes were also trained on Alloran, but for a quite different reason.

He had never forgotten the name of the Andalite responsible for the quantum virus. He wasn't as intimately familiar with their species as his brother was, of course, but every Yeerk knew Andalites were fond of spouting moralistic platitudes … then turning their back on them as soon as it served their purposes.

But Alloran didn't even pretend to concern himself with the typical Andalite ideals of honor and virtuousness. Instead he was decisive, ruthless and efficient.

For this reason, Esplin secondary both admired and feared him.

‹Your orders, sir?› the younger Andalite asked timidly.

‹Ah. Now you want orders. When I ordered you to flush those pools of Yeerks out into space you disobeyed me. But now you want orders. Now you _want _to be told what to do.›

Well. This revelation was certainly jarring. What pools of Yeerks?!

‹Sir, the Time Matrix is—›

‹Silence, you young fool! We don't have time for that yet. No, first we have to take care of the business you kept me from taking care of. That Taxxon ship full of Yeerks is still in its cradle. Still filled with Yeerk slugs. What do you think I've been doing the last day and a half? I've been hiding in shadows, morphing and demorphing, watching that ship.›

Esplin secondary took his eyes off Alloran just long enough to steal a glance at his brother. _What do you intend to do about this?_ he wondered.

He wished they had the Andalites' ability to communicate telepathically. Right now it was nearly impossible for the three Yeerks aboard to act cooperatively without blowing their cover. It was maddening.

‹Prince Alloran, is that really the most important thing to do?› the young Andalite protested.

Alloran glared at him. ‹The most important thing in war is to destroy your enemies, _Aristh _Elfangor. Nothing is more important than destroying your enemies. Do you understand?›

His stalk eyes swiveled to meet Esplin secondary's gaze.

This was not promising.

‹You understand, don't you?› Alloran continued. ‹You Yeerks understand.›

"You said you would let me go!" Esplin objected, but he was hardly surprised.

‹And so I will,› Alloran agreed. ‹Open the hatch, _Aristh _Elfangor. The sub-visser is going to see if that Hork-Bajir body of his can fly!›

Esplin braced himself for a fight. He looked to his brother for support … but the look in Esplin primary's eyes was not one he expected to see.

* * *

Esplin primary stared hard at his twin brother, willing him to receive the message.

_No, you idiot,_ he thought. _Don't fight them! Just go with it! This is where Hekliss comes in, she's prepared for this sort of thing, trust Hekliss, trust _me_! Don't ruin it all now!_

There was a long, painful moment where Esplin secondary looked simply bewildered …

* * *

But it wasn't that Esplin secondary didn't get the message. He knew his brother too well.

It was that a glance at the altimeter told him the ground was over ten thousand feet below, and getting further away by the second. And though he knew Hekliss was nearby, poised for action, he wondered how she could possibly rescue him from a fall from that height … and not attract the Andalites' attention in the process.

But Hekliss was nothing if not resourceful. And Esplin primary seemed to know what he was doing.

So, very reluctantly, Esplin secondary began to release his hold on the Hork-Bajir brain. This way, he would have a higher chance of survival if his host happened to perish from the fall.

‹Slow to dead stop,› Alloran ordered. ‹Altitude?›

‹Fifteen thousand feet. We are still within the atmosphere. Air speed is now at dead stop.›

‹Dead stop. Appropriate. Now open the hatch.›

Detached from the Hork-Bajir brain as he was, Esplin could no longer see the Andalites. Nor did he observe the hatch as it opened. But he did not need a host body's senses to "hear" Alloran's thought-speak, which penetrated all the way through to his own mind.

‹Get out, Yeerk.›

When Esplin didn't move, Alloran delivered a sharp blow to his shoulder with the flat of his tail blade, giving the Hork-Bajir body just enough momentum to send it tumbling through the hatch and out into the open air …


	17. What Goes Up Must Come Down

Hekliss watched the ship anxiously as it lifted off. If the Andalites were true to their word, the hatch should be opening any moment now.

But instead the ship rose higher. Picked up speed. Shot higher still.

Thousands of feet in the air!

What was going on in there?

Had her friends found out a way to overcome the Andalites, perhaps to incapacitate them?

Or—Hekliss shuddered—had they met a different fate?

She took her own fighter up slightly, just high enough to clear the spacecraft, but not enough to be distinguishable from the chaos of the battle. She ordered the viewscreen to zoom in on the Andalite ship. It was slowing down now … coming to a dead stop in atmosphere.

A window of light slowly opened in the side of the ship.

The hatch!

"What in the great pool of Udra?!" Hekliss exclaimed.

She dialed up the magnification on the viewscreen—just in time to get a very clear view of a Hork-Bajir body dropping out of the opening.

Esplin secondary!

_Oh dapsen oh dapsen oh dapsen oh dapsen—!_

"Well, _he's_ not going to make it," Iniss observed.

"You be quiet!" Hekliss barked savagely, fumbling for the fighter's controls.

_okay, don't panic, you knew this might happen_

_(not from fifteen thousand feet up I didn't)_

_shut up and focus_

The fighter zoomed upward to meet the falling Hork-Bajir—

_!_

—then Hekliss abruptly reversed direction, maintaining position directly below Esplin, but always moving downward so as to minimize the force of the impact—

_one chance you have one chance don't foul this up_

WHAM!

Hekliss pounced on the controls and energy ropes shot out from the fighter, lashing Esplin's Hork-Bajir body to its upper surface.

_Did I do it?_

_I did it!_

_I really did!_

"That was exciting," she breathed. "I hope I never, ever have to do it again."

Iniss could only stare at her speechlessly.

* * *

She landed the Bug fighter back at the spaceport and deactivated the energy ropes. Esplin secondary slid off the fighter to the ground, unconscious but breathing.

After examining his Hork-Bajir body, Hekliss pronounced it beyond repair. She ordered Iniss to help her carry him to the nearest pool.

"Who died and made you sub-visser?" Iniss grouched.

"No one, I hope," Hekliss said brusquely. She mentally cursed Iniss and his complete lack of tact. For Esplin primary and Tarak were still aboard the Andalite ship, with very limited means of defending themselves.

Hopefully everything else was going according to plan.

Hopefully.

* * *

‹Now we go back and fry that transport ship,› Alloran was saying. ‹Good to see you've grown up a little, _Aristh _Elfangor. Take us back over the southeastern corner of the spaceport. Maintain present altitude. Then we'll go pick up our missing Time Matrix, eh?›

Esplin primary narrowed his eyes as he processed the implications of Alloran's words. A transport ship. Why was Alloran bent on destroying a transport ship?

Then he noticed Elfangor watching him curiously.

‹What made you decide to come with us?› the young Andalite finally asked. ‹Do you expect mercy from us? You betrayed us. You betrayed your fellow human. You've told the Yeerks about Earth. You may have betrayed your entire species.›

Esplin had to stifle a laugh. _If he only knew. _

He scanned Chapman's consciousness for a suitable reply. "Not my fault, though, is it? I was on Earth, minding my own business. I didn't ask to be kidnapped by the Skrit Na. I didn't ask to be dragged halfway across the galaxy by you Andalites. I was just trying to protect myself."

It was Alloran's turn to laugh. ‹By making deals with the Yeerks? The Yeerks don't make deals. They enslave.›

So he had both Andalites' attention now. Wonderful. Granted, neither of them seemed to suspect a Yeerk presence in Chapman's head, but one wrong move and that would change in an instant.

"Yeah, I guess that's what I realized. After a while," he conceded. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I'm just a dumb human kid, okay? Give me a break."

That response seemed to satisfy Elfangor. ‹We are coming back over the spaceport. There is a lot of smoke. But you should still be able to get a good targeting lock with the shredder.›

‹Screw you,› said Chapman inside Esplin's head. ‹I'm not apologizing to _those_ assholes. I knew what I was doing.›

‹Did you now?› Esplin sneered.

‹Well … not completely, the human admitted. ‹But I'm still not sorry. These Andalites are obviously in over their heads. I just picked the winning side, that's all. And I'm not dead yet.›

‹Fire, _Aristh _Elfangor,› Alloran said suddenly, jolting Esplin out of his internal conversation.

Elfangor looked stunned. ‹What?›

‹I said fire. Fry those Yeerks. You let them live, now you finish them. Undo your mistake, and no one will ever have to know about your earlier cowardice.›

That's when it all came together in Esplin's head. He'd been so busy trying to figure out how to infest Alloran that he hadn't put the pieces together … but now he understood. This was a transport ship from the home world, carrying a fresh new batch of Yeerks to be put into Taxxon host bodies. Those ships could hold thousands of Yeerks at a time!

He would never be able to explain the loss of that many Yeerks to Visser Two. He couldn't let it happen! He shot a frantic look at Tarak, who looked equally alarmed.

But what could they do? Elfangor's hand was poised above the firing pad this very instant! And right now he and Tarak were armed with nothing but pitifully weak human bodies! If they attacked, they would be sliced to ribbons in seconds ...

‹Do it, Elfangor,› Alloran ordered.

But then, Elfangor's hand dropped away from the firing pad—and in a flash, Alloran's tail blade was at his throat.

‹_You think you can fight a clean war, Elfangor?!_›

The intensity of his thought-speak made Esplin jump.

‹_Is that what you think? _Or are you one of those who are happy enough when someone like _me_ does the dirty work for you?›

Esplin and Tarak exchanged a surprised glance.

‹They are defenseless,› Elfangor protested.

Alloran glared at him. ‹They are the _enemy_. Hypocrites! You're all hypocrites! We lost the Hork-Bajir war because of weak, moralizing fools like _you!_ Because of fools like you, I am disgraced and shunned and sent off on trivial errands with nothing but _arisths _under my command!›

‹War-prince Alloran, I honor you, but—›

‹What is the difference how you destroy the enemy?› he ranted. ‹What does it matter if you kill them with a tail blade or a shredder or a quantum virus?›

Elfangor simply looked shocked.

Esplin watched the two of them, fascinated. So. These Andalites weren't exactly united in their goals.

Well then.

‹You … you used a quantum virus?› Elfangor asked shakily. ‹You used a quantum virus on the Hork-Bajir world?›

Alloran seemed not to hear him. ‹I cannot have a weak, cowardly fool like you messing up—›

In a split-second decision, Esplin leaped at the raging war-prince. Aimed a punch directly at the side of his head. Ducked away from the Andalite's reflexive tail twitch.

It didn't have the desired effect—the blow took Alloran by surprise more than anything else. But then Elfangor came through for him, whacking the side of Alloran's head with his own tail blade. The war-prince dropped to the floor.

Esplin stared at Alloran's collapsed form, exhilarated. He could hardly believe it. Here was his target host body, prone, defenseless! He was so close to being an Andalite-Controller he could taste it!

Now he just had to get the other Andalite out of the way ...

* * *

"Now what?" Esplin asked.

‹Now what?!› came Elfangor's panicked reply. ‹Now what? I just knocked out my own prince!› Then he calmed himself. ‹We have something to pick up. Then we are getting as far from this evil place as this ship will go!›

Esplin nodded. Something to pick up ... that had to be the Time Matrix. Nothing else would be important enough._  
_

Tarak ripped a strip of cloth from the hem of his host's small robe, then wrapped it around the Andalite's chest, where a scabbed-over wound had begun oozing blood. He glanced at Esplin over Elfangor's shoulder, a look of ironic amusement on his face.

Unlike Chapman, the human called Loren had always been friendly towards the Andalites. Now Tarak had to keep playing the part.

‹Thank you,› Elfangor said shakily.

"Is life always this insane for you space cadets?" Tarak asked.

‹Oh, yes. Infiltrate the Taxxon home world, help inspire a Taxxon civil war, mutiny against my prince, and locate the Time Matrix, all in the company of a pair of strange, two-legged aliens … Business as usual.›

Tarak smiled with Loren's mouth. "Hey. You made a joke. I didn't think you did humor, Elfangor."

‹When the world goes mad, what else can you do?› Elfangor paused thoughtfully. ‹I wonder if Arbron knew the world was mad?›

"Speaking of crazy … did I see you driving up in a bright yellow Mustang back there?"

‹It was a wonderful machine. Primitive, but strangely enjoyable.› His main eyes squinted at the viewscreen. ‹There it is. We're going down. I need to clear away the wreckage so the tractor beam can grab the Time Matrix.›

Esplin's breath caught in his throat. His single human heart leaped.

Because now he knew the location of the Time Matrix, yes. But more importantly, Elfangor was going to exit the ship ... leaving the Yeerks alone with the knocked-out war-prince.

He couldn't have asked for a more perfect scenario.

* * *

They came to rest in a narrow gap between mountains, far from any spaceport—or indeed, any Yeerk outpost at all.

This was rebel territory.

But the area seemed deserted. The only thing the viewscreen showed besides orange dirt and bare rock was a roughly disk-shaped vessel Esplin recognized as a Skrit Na transport ship. It was thoroughly smashed up—it had apparently crash-landed here. Elfangor powered down the Andalite ship, snatched up a handheld shredder, and ran outside.

Esplin didn't take his eyes off the Andalite until he was well engrossed in methodically burning away the wrecked ship. Then he turned to Tarak. "Grab your Dracon beam and stand guard."

Back at the spaceport, Esplin and Tarak had covertly stashed a supply of Dracon beams aboard the ship, well in advance of the rebel Taxxons' raid. Tarak fished one out and took up a position by the open hatch.

‹Now you,› Esplin said internally to his host. ‹Are you ready to be useful?›

‹That depends,› Chapman countered. ‹What's in it for me?›

‹Well. Let me put it this way,› Esplin told him. ‹If you fully cooperate with us, we will ensure the rest of your life is _very_ comfortable. If not … › He laughed inside Chapman's head. ‹Well, you won't have much of a "rest of your life" to worry about.›

‹Fair enough,› Chapman replied, though Esplin could sense he didn't appreciate being threatened. ‹What's your plan?›

Esplin aimed Chapman's eyes at the still-unconscious Alloran. ‹You see him? I'm leaving your body. For that one.›

Despite himself, Chapman couldn't help being a little impressed. ‹Whoa.›

‹As soon as I'm out, go get yourself a Dracon beam and help Tarak guard the door. In theory, Elfangor's task should occupy him for a while. By the time he gets back, I should be fully in control of Alloran, and then the three of us will be able to overwhelm him quite easily.›

Esplin paused while Chapman processed the instructions.

‹But just in case Elfangor somehow manages to escape with the Time Matrix,› he continued, ‹we've rigged this ship with a homing device. Our allies will be able to detect its location anywhere in real space. So keep him out of Zero-space if at all possible.›

‹He could try to use the Time Matrix itself,› Chapman argued. ‹He could escape through time. Would you be able to detect him then?›

‹He _has_ to be in real space to do that. We'd track him down before he got the chance.›

That seemed to satisfy Chapman.

Esplin went over to the medical kit, rummaging through it until he found an injectable stimulant. Then he knelt down beside Alloran and emptied the stimulant into his upper arm, for he wanted to be able to _use_ his new body as quickly as possible.

Finally, he looked up at Tarak and grinned.

"Here I go," he said.

Tarak laughed nervously. "Good luck."

* * *

It was his second time infesting an Andalite … and yet his first time infesting an _Andalite_.

For with Aldrea, yes, he'd accessed her mind, he'd experienced her history of being an Andalite … but this was the first time he'd slithered into a physical Andalite ear. The first time he'd wrapped himself around the delicate folds of an Andalite brain. He quickly rifled through Alloran's memories, absorbing as much of the new information as he could while he waited impatiently for the stimulant to take effect.

Finally, the muscles began to respond, and Esplin blinked open Alloran's eyes.

Four eyes. Two on the front of his face, and two high above his head, twisting and turning on their stalks, giving him a wondrous panoramic view of his surroundings. He twisted them left, right, in tandem and individually, swinging them widely apart, then back around to look at one another—

That was very strange, actually. He was looking at his own eyeballs.

But it was incredible, and he knew right then that he would never again be happy with only two eyes.

He laboriously climbed to his feet—his _hooves._ Four hooves that could vaguely taste the metallic floor of the ship. He took a few steps forward, his hooves clip-clopping against the metal floor, as he continued to get a feel for the Andalite body, this body that was everything he had dreamed of and more, so agile, so fast, so powerful! and yet with such delicate, subtle senses ...

He reared up suddenly, flailing his front legs. His hooves hit the deck and he pushed off again, leaping joyously into the air. He swept his tail in a wide arc—then cracked it like a whip in the other direction.

‹Look at that!› he exulted. ‹Did you see that? Did you see my tail? No Hork-Bajir blade moves that fast!›

Tarak stared at him enviously. "Okay. That's it. I want one too. Can I have the other Andalite when he gets back?"

Esplin paused to consider this. ‹That's probably a good idea. It's either that or kill him.› He walked over to the storage compartment and picked out a Dracon beam. Out of one stalk eye, he noticed the dazed-looking Chapman still didn't have a weapon, so Esplin tossed a second beam in his direction. Chapman lunged clumsily for it, missed, and the beam clattered wildly onto the floor.

Esplin gave the human a look. ‹Are you going to be useful or not? You'll need better reflexes than that when Elfangor returns.›

"Shut up," Chapman snapped. "I'm getting used to controlling my own body again. Give me a break."

Esplin wandered over to the open hatch and looked out. The great off-white globe that was the Time Matrix was clearly visible among the ship's wreckage, but Elfangor was not—except for the intermittent appearance of a tail blade around the curved edges of the device.

_What is taking him so long?_ he wondered.

He turned to the others. ‹I changed my mind. Let's ambush him. Right now he's behind the Time Matrix and can't see us. This is the perfect opportunity.› He fixed one stalk eye on each of the humans. ‹Set your Dracon beams to stun. Let's go get ourselves an Andalite.›


	18. Andalite Shenanigans

At first, Alloran-Semitur-Corrass had been terribly confused as he slowly regained consciousness on the floor of the Jahar.

The last thing he remembered was _Aristh_ Elfangor refusing to follow orders, clinging instead to his own idealistic notions. Those simpering nitwits on the Electorate should be proud of the success of their efforts to inculcate the military youth with emotional nonsense disguised as ethics …

But no. Elfangor wasn't his problem right now. The problem was that he'd somehow been knocked unconscious on his own ship.

How?

Oh yes. The human called Chapman had unexpectedly assaulted him. But that hadn't done it. He remembered the shock, the surprise that the weaponless human would dare to attack him. He'd simply been too stunned to react. Lucky for Chapman.

No, he'd been hit again. By … no!

Had Elfangor _really been that stupid?_

Evidently so. He'd thought Elfangor was ridiculously childish, but perhaps the boy was actually mentally ill. He'd recommend the _aristh_ for a full mental checkup when they got back to the _StarSword_.

He still couldn't move yet, although at some point he'd opened his eyes. He felt strangely far away, as if he weren't fully present in his own body. His stalk eyes roamed restlessly about, rather clumsily he thought, because he seemed to lack his usual subtle control over them. But he chalked that up to lingering disorientation.

Then his legs suddenly began to unfold themselves, slowly pushing his body into a standing position.

All on their own.

A fresh stab of fear pierced his hearts.

Something was terribly wrong ...

He tried to swish his tail, for evidently his limbs were functional now. It didn't so much as twitch. He tried raising his left arm, even wiggling a finger … but regardless, he simply could not make his body respond. It was as if his body was no longer his own, except that he could still _feel_ the ship's stale, overconditioned air on his skin and the smooth floor under his hooves. He simply could not make his own body move.

And yet it _was_ moving. Walking. Leaping. And _now_ his tail swished, though this time he hadn't asked it to!

No. It couldn't be.

It _couldn't _be!

But when he heard the Yeerk gleefully boast to its fellows in his own thought-speak voice, he could no longer deny it.

He had been taken.

* * *

He couldn't say anything at first. What was there to say? What was there to do?

Nothing. Nothing but watch through eyes that were no longer his own, while the shame and the rage washed over him, as the Yeerks plotted to capture the foolish young _aristh_.

He thought he had been disgraced before, but _now?_ They'd called him the Butcher of Hork-Bajir, but he'd worn that title half-proudly, accepting responsibility for the act the Andalite High Command would not dare to publicly endorse even though they secretly approved.

Now, though? Now that he was no more than a vessel for some filthy, scheming Yeerk? Now they would call him a fool, on par with Seerow himself, for letting his body fall under Yeerk control. For no Andalite had ever been taken by the Yeerks. Not until now. He was the first, and the quantum virus was _nothing_ in comparison to the havoc this new development would wreak upon his reputation.

Jahar. All he could think of was Jahar. Not this ship that was her namesake, but his own living Jahar, who waited for him with their young son and infant daughter. Having already borne his first disgrace, she would now have to bear a second, and this time she would bear it alone, for he had no reason to expect to see his family ever again.

How could this have happened? How?!

Elfangor.

It was Elfangor's fault.

What in _yaolin_ had the _aristh_ had been thinking? The charitable assumption would be that Elfangor had somehow been made a Controller along with the humans, and the three of them had worked together to bring him down—but that theory didn't fit the current scenario, for the Yeerks were still bent on capturing Elfangor!

There was still the mental impairment hypothesis, but now Alloran knew there was no hope of returning to the _StarSword_ himself. Someone else would have to figure out what was wrong with _Aristh_ Elfangor.

If he even escaped the Taxxon world. Because right now the Yeerks were creeping quietly toward the Time Matrix, ready to converge on the unprepared _aristh_.

And as much as he was furious at Elfangor, Alloran couldn't let a second Andalite fall to the Yeerks. Not if there was anything he could do about it.

‹You,› he said, his thought-speak dripping with contempt. ‹I know you're there, Yeerk. Are you feeling proud of yourself now?›

The the thing in his head didn't even make a superficial attempt to mask its excessive pride.

‹Actually, yes. Yes I am.› The loathsome creature laughed. ‹You don't even know who I am, do you?›

‹I know _what_ you are, and that's enough,› Alloran retorted.

‹Oh no, I don't think it is,› countered the Yeerk with barely restrained glee. ‹I think you need to know the whole story. See, you pushed the wrong Controller out of the ship. That wasn't me in that Hork-Bajir. I was in Chapman the whole time. And now ... I'm in _you_.›

So it was that scheming sub-visser!

‹_You!_›

‹Yes, _me_,› the Yeerk said triumphantly. _‹_Esplin-Nine-Four-Double-Six, the first ever Andalite-Controller! Or as _you_ know me, Sub-Visser Seven, but I really doubt I'll be keeping that rank much longer.›

The Yeerk's unabashed arrogance was absolutely infuriating.

But while it was boasting, its attention was diverted from pursuing Elfangor.

_‹_Oh, and I know you're trying to thwart my efforts,› it added. _‹_But it doesn't matter. We managed to capture _you_, after all. Your incompetent little _aristh_ should be no trouble at all.›

* * *

But the _aristh_ proved to be more trouble than expected, for suddenly he leaped out from behind the Time Matrix, shredder at the ready!

Tarak was the first to react, quickly aiming his Dracon beam—but Elfangor was faster.

TSSSEEEWWWW!

Fortunately, the shredder was also on stun, and Tarak dropped to the dirt unharmed.

TSSSEEEWWWW!

Chapman's shot went wild, and Elfangor stunned him too.

By this time, Esplin had finally gathered his wits—_‹_You see?› Alloran jeered in his head. _‹_You weren't paying attention!›— and aimed his own weapon, but once again Elfangor pulled the trigger first.

TSSSEEEWWWW!

There was a stinging, tingling heat in Esplin's right arm, and it flopped numbly to his side, the Dracon beam falling from his fingers.

_All right, young one, this round goes to you,_ Esplin thought grudgingly. Out loud he said, _‹_Very good, _Aristh_ Elfangor. It took you a while, but you figured it out in the end.›

Elfangor fixed him with a hostile glare. _‹_Sub-Visser Seven.›

_‹_Yes, but not for long. The Yeerk who made the first Andalite-Controller? The Yeerk who captured the fabled Time Matrix? I'd say I can count on a major promotion. Wouldn't you?›

The _aristh's_ hands shook slightly as he once again aimed his shredder in Esplin's direction. _‹_You made Chapman a Controller. You were in his head. That Hork-Bajir I thought was you … just a trick.›

_‹_Of course,› Esplin confirmed. _‹_And another of my people made Loren one of us. And while you so considerately worked to clear away the Time Matrix, I revived Alloran and transferred myself into him. The first and only Andalite-Controller!›

Even now, he could hardly believe it himself. Such a beautiful combination of words: _Andalite-Controller_. What most Yeerks had never believed to be possible. And now such a thing existed. _He_ existed!

He was finally the creature he had always been meant to be! With the body he had always been meant to have!

Never before had he felt more alive … or more fully _himself_.

_‹_It was so kind of you to knock the old warrior out for me,› he continued to mock the poor _aristh_. _‹_I didn't know how I was ever going to take him. He was a wily creature. A bit mad, of course, but he knew war. You saw how ruthless he was in tossing out the poor Hork-Bajir who played the role of me. Yes, Alloran was a warrior.›

Oh, he was enjoying this immensely. Everything had worked out so perfectly, if you ignored the fact that his right arm was completely useless at the moment. The young Andalite had played right into his hands.

_‹_Chapman told us about the Time Matrix, of course. But we needed you to show us where it was.› He closed his main eyes, though all the while he kept his stalk eyes trained on Elfangor. He recalled the attack on the spaceport, the close call with the Taxxon _nothlit_, the way everything suddenly seemed to be going all wrong ... and then, just as quickly, it all fell into place. _‹_The attack by the Mountain Taxxons could have disrupted everything, but you know, in the end it was convenient. It kept you from growing suspicious. You were too busy worrying about your fellow _aristh. _You didn't even have time to wonder how the two humans just happened to be waiting for you. You didn't wonder why my troops let you escape.›

Now his main eyes flashed open mischievously. _‹_But you know the best part?› He laughed, almost giddy now. _‹_I really couldn't have let you burn that transport ship full of my people. Chapman didn't know about the Yeerks in that transport, so neither did I. And if you'd gone along with Alloran I'd have had to try to stop you. So would my brother Yeerk in the human girl.›

At that, Alloran snorted in his head. _‹_Oh really? You let me eliminate your Hork-Bajir companion without much of a fuss.›

_Of course, _Esplin realized. The Andalites didn't know about Hekliss's fighter. They had no idea that Esplin secondary had almost certainly survived.

_‹_It was one thing to sacrifice the poor fool who played the role of me,› he added hurriedly. _‹_But ten thousand Yeerks? No, I'd have had to act, and then you and Alloran together would have most likely made short work of me. But no, Elfangor is one of those good Andalites. You don't go in for slaughtering the helpless, do you?› he mocked, breaking into another bout of hysterical laughter. _‹_Wonderful! Your qualms delivered Alloran to me. Alloran and the Time Matrix. Mine!›

Finally Elfangor seemed to find his voice. _‹_Really? I seem to be the one holding the shredder.›

Esplin waved his remaining good hand dismissively. _‹_There are a dozen Bug fighters closing in right now. You've lost, little one.›

Elfangor glared at him. _‹_You'll be a cinder by the time they get here.›

_‹_No, you won't kill a helpless foe,› Esplin laughed. _‹_I have no weapon! I am your prisoner! Hah-hah! I surrender to you, Elfangor. I surrender!›

_‹_You're right, Sub-Visser. I won't kill you.›

That was the last thing Esplin remembered.

* * *

Having made sure one brother was safe, Hekliss was now en route to check on the other.

It was easy enough to determine the Andalite ship's new location, thanks to the homing beacon. She'd tracked down several of her fellow security guards and asked them to come along, so that now several Bug fighters were quickly zipping across the Taxxon desert to their destination.

And there was the ship now. Next to some kind of unrecognizable wreck. A single Andalite lay on the ground between them.

Suddenly, a request came in for visual, two-way communication.

"Iniss, you take the call," she said as she slowly banked the fighter around for a landing.

"Why can't you?"

She sighed, exasperated. Iniss was never this recalcitrant with her brother. "Because I'm the one flying the ship, you idiot. Just do it."

Iniss finally obliged, and an Andalite face appeared on the communications screen.

_What does he want?_ thought Hekliss irritably. She hoped he wasn't bearing ill news of her friends.

_‹_What?› the Andalite demanded. _‹_You don't recognize your sub-visser? Hah-hah! I have done it, you fool! As I said I would. I have acquired an Andalite body!›

_Really?_

It didn't _sound_ like Esplin. Despite the brash, cocky attitude. Then again, Hekliss supposed it was ridiculous to expect her brother to sound familiar when he was in an entirely new species of host.

_‹_You see the Andalite down on the ground?›

Hekliss peered down at the planet surface, where the Andalite was just beginning to regain consciousness.

"Yes … " Iniss hesitated. "Sub-Visser Seven."

_‹_Good, you're not blind as well as stupid. I want to see him run. Do you understand me! As soon as I have lifted off, make him run! And then, when he is good and tired, when his knees buckle with exhaustion, make him dead. Dead! And if you fail me, I will feed you to the Taxxons. Sub-Visser Seven, out.›

Well, that was definitely Esplin's recently-acquired sadistic streak. Hekliss sighed, then had Iniss relay the order to the other fighters. Soon they were all closely pursuing the Andalite below, who had apparently regained consciousness and was now running at full tilt across the sand.

Why did Esplin want this particular Andalite dead, though? On his own he wasn't much of a threat.

Wouldn't it have been preferable to try to capture him as well? And even if killing him _was_ the better option, why the game of chase? Why not just Dracon him and be done with it?

She shot a glance back toward the Andalite ship. It was lifting off now, with an oddly enormous spherical object attached to its hull. Out of the corner of her eye, she continued to watch it rise.

The ship showed no signs of slowing down as it shot upward through the atmosphere.

Something wasn't adding up.

Where was Esplin going?

And why was he being so mysterious about it?

Then it hit her, and she killed thrust so quickly that Iniss was thrown violently to the ground.

Hekliss leaped over to the communications panel. "Order to all fighters: Stop! The Andalite you're chasing is the sub-visser! Our enemies are escaping aboard the Andalite ship!" Then she opened a new channel to alert planet control back at the spaceport, giving them a quick rundown of what had happened.

The other fighters began to take off in pursuit of the Andalite ship, but Hekliss did not join them. Instead, she eased the fighter down to the planet surface.

* * *

Hekliss stuck her head out of the Bug fighter's open hatch. There was the Andalite, not twenty feet away, breathing heavily as he fought to stay upright on wobbly legs.

She ran over to his side and his furious blue main eyes met her own and she knew that _this_, unlike the first Andalite, was undoubtedly her brother.

‹I know some Yeerks who are going to die for this,› Esplin seethed. ‹Every last one of those fools is going to die.›

"Esplin, that's more than half your guard. I don't think the visser will approve. And you can't blame them—the other Andalite told us _he_ was you. How was anyone supposed to know _which_ Andalite body you had taken?"

He glared at her, apparently in no mood to be reasonable.

"Anyway, your twin is fine," she told him. "He's back in the pool—Wait. Where's Tarak?"

Esplin looked confused for a moment. ‹I … Elfangor stunned him. I remember that.› He scanned the area. ‹But he's gone now.› A pensive look crossed his face. ‹Elfangor is partial to the host body. He would have taken it with him. So Tarak is probably aboard the _Jahar_.›

"The what?"

‹The Andalite ship. That's its name. The _Jahar_.›

"So he's a prisoner?!"

‹I—yes. I guess he would be.›

"So we have to go after them now." She took a deep breath. "How are you doing? You ended up having to push that new body pretty hard."

‹How do you _think_ I'm doing?›

"Ah. Not well, then."

‹I feel absolutely _terrible_, thank you very much. Apparently it's a bad idea to take a tranquilizer and a stimulant in quick succession. But being forced to run for my life didn't help.› He pressed his hands to his temples. ‹I finally get the Andalite body I've always wanted, and it immediately gets put through such abuse as to render it practically unusable!›

Hekliss turned back toward the fighter. "Well, then we should get back to the pool as soon as possible. You can feed while your host body recovers."

‹All right,› Esplin said grudgingly as he began to follow her. ‹But this host must be put under heavy guard. This is a _morph-capable Andalite warrior._ If he should escape, the person responsible _will_ be executed. I'm pretty sure Visser Two will support me on _that_.›


	19. Ambush

It was definitely a sorry state of affairs when "freedom" meant having your limbs wrapped in chains and your tail blade sheathed. When it meant that Hork-Bajir-Controllers were staring you down, their Dracon beams poised, ready to fire if so much as the _thought_ of morphing showed up on your face.

But at least the hated slug wasn't there to witness his every thought, and Alloran would take what he could get.

Every minute of this time was precious, he knew. How long did it take an individual Yeerk to feed? Minutes? Hours? He'd never had reason to find out. At any moment he might be notified of his captor's return, so he was determined to make the most of whatever time he had.

Alloran had always known exactly how to deal with enemies. Ruthless, some had called him. Others had been less kind in their choice of vocabulary: callous, brutal, cold-blooded. He was known for efficiently dispatching foes with nary a care for diplomacy or tact.

_What do you do, though, when the enemy is inside your own head?_

He could no longer rely on brute strength or powerful weapons. The traditional battlefield was closed to him.

All he had left was the battlefield of the mind.

Alloran had never been particularly interested in psychology. The only scientific discipline that had ever held any appeal for him was engineering, and then only as it related to shipbuilding or weapons design. Yet now the only option that lay before him, short of complete despair, was to affect the thoughts and emotions of the creature who had claimed his body.

That was the only way he could still fight back.

* * *

Now that he had relinquished the Andalite's weary, aching limbs, all of Esplin's previous excitement came rushing back to him.

He had done it. _He had done it!_

For the first time, an Andalite host would be awaiting him at the end of his feeding. Even now, as he was carried to and fro by the gentle ripples of the Yeerk pool, soaking in Kandrona rays, replenishing his strength, he could barely believe it. The events of the past several hours seemed like an unusually wild, exciting dream.

But they weren't.

That made all the difference.

Since he didn't have much else to do right then, Esplin made his way over to the poolside computer interface. He would make a formal report on his recent accomplishments, then forward it to Visser Two and the Council of Thirteen.

But when he got there, another Yeerk was already using the console.

"Hello, brother!" Esplin said brightly.

"There you are," Esplin secondary replied. "Please tell me we are never doing that again. I know _you_ have plenty of experience falling out of ships, but once is more than enough for me. Your host is completely destroyed, by the way."

"That's all right," Esplin primary told him. "I've got a _new_ host."

Esplin secondary regarded him skeptically. "The human? Or are you saying—"

"That's right," the primary twin said proudly. "I did it! I got an Andalite host body!"

"You're not serious."

"Completely serious. Here, I'll show you," Esplin primary said, extending his palps forward.

Esplin secondary reached out with his own palps in response, and they connected, with Esplin primary re-imagining the events leading up to Alloran's infestation and sending them through the neural link. This was one instance in which palp-to-palp communication was clearly superior to speech. It was of course far more efficient to recount the story in thoughts and images rather than words. But even more, Esplin wanted his brother to appreciate every nuance of the way everything had come together so perfectly, to share in his own excitement and triumph.

Esplin secondary drew back. "By the Kandrona itself," he said, with more than a little envy creeping into his voice. "So you managed to capture that cantankerous old war-prince!"

"I certainly did," Esplin primary said proudly.

"Well, good. Serves him right for trying to kill me."

"He was technically trying to kill _me_," the primary twin pointed out.

"Yes," the secondary conceded. "But I'm the one who suffered for it."

"Oh, hush. You came out of it perfectly fine."

"Yes, I am. Just hostless at the moment," he admitted. "Listen, brother—when you get out of the pool, can you check on the status of my original host? I just tried to do so myself, but the computer didn't tell me anything useful."

"Of course I will," Esplin primary agreed, plugging his palps into the computer interface. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to make my report to the Council."

* * *

Alloran spotted the approaching Hork-Bajir-Controller out of one stalk eye, the one who held the disgusting, gray-green thing cupped in its rough hands. It was the first time he'd laid eyes on the creature who had enslaved him.

He made sure to get a very good look.

The Hork-Bajir brought its hands to Alloran's ear, and he felt the horribly wet strand of flesh begin to penetrate his skull. He focused his mind, ignoring the mounting dread in his hearts. He called up the image of the Yeerk and thought how much he hated it. He imagined what he might have done to it … if only his tail had been free.

And he made sure to picture every last gruesome detail.

Alloran had no idea if this would have any impact on the Yeerk, but it was worth a try. For this, the moment of reentry, was the only time his thoughts could ever catch the Yeerk off guard.

He felt the slug seep into his brain, reestablishing the neural connections, and then—to his gratification—he felt a sudden wave of terror and revulsion.

_So,_ Alloran thought with grim satisfaction. _You are not invulnerable._

* * *

Esplin tried very hard not to let it slip to his host, but Alloran had managed to severely rattle him.

He'd rushed in excitedly through the Andalite's ear canal, anxious to regain the coveted body. Of course he hadn't expected to be greeted with the image of his own body being hacked apart by an Andalite tail blade! Not a host body, which would have been bad enough, but his own true Yeerk body! At least if something happened to his host it wasn't really _him_; he could theoretically survive if he managed to escape in time, as he had proven in the past. But the idea of violence being inflicted on his own Yeerk self was more than he could bear.

He calmed himself almost immediately, though, for he knew at once that this had been Alloran's goal all along.

So his host wanted to battle in the psychological arena, did he? Well, Esplin was more than capable of rising to the challenge. Not only was he a far more accomplished torturer than Alloran was, he had another very distinct advantage …

* * *

‹A foolish move, Andalite,› the Yeerk sneered in Alloran's head. ‹You think a few pictures can disturb _me?›_

‹I _know_ they disturbed you,› Alloran replied smugly; the Yeerk's bravado wasn't fooling him for an instant.

‹You know nothing about me,› the Yeerk insisted. ‹I, however, know _everything_ about you. You think you can play your sick little fantasies at my expense and it will bother me? No, because that's all they are! Fantasies! I, however, know of some _very real_ things that you would rather not relive … ›

And just like that, Alloran's mind was plunged into the past.

* * *

_Feyorn's stalk eyes stared resolutely off into the distance, but for a second his main eyes met Alloran's, and that one glance revealed shame, betrayal, sorrow._

_Alloran felt all of it was wholly unjustified._

_‹I don't know what's happened to you,› Feyorn said sadly._

_‹You too, Feyorn?› Alloran burst out. ‹Has the entire Andalite race gone mad? I might have expected such naïveté from those fools on the Electorate, ensconced in the safety of our own world, but you! You have seen what the Yeerks have done to us! You were there on the Yeerk planet when they massacred Olidar and Therexian and the others! And yet still you refuse to take these threats seriously!›_

_‹But—›_

_‹This is exactly is how my father was killed!› Alloran raged, beginning to pace back and forth along the bridge of the Dome ship. ‹Don't you remember? That so-called "peacekeeping" mission to the Iari world? And it turned out the Iari'a weren't interested in peace at all! And then the same thing happened with the Yeerks! And you all still want to play at being polite and proper when our very existence is at stake!›_

_‹But you destroyed an entire people, Alloran!› Feyorn exploded._

_‹So that the Yeerks wouldn't destroy _us!_ A Hork-Bajir is nearly the equal of an Andalite in battle, and before the virus there were more of them than there were of us! The quantum virus is the only reason they're not on their way to attack our home world right now! And yet they _blame_ me, they _condemn_ me, for the very decision that saved our world!›_

_Now Feyorn faced him full on, glaring with his main eyes. ‹You don't _know_ that! You weren't acting under anyone's orders! You took matters into your own hands, and who's to say that was the only way to stop the Yeerks? Events could have transpired in a thousand different ways, you can't definitively say that you had no other choice!›_

_‹Be that as it may, I still ensured our safety,› Alloran insisted. ‹I guaranteed that the Yeerks wouldn't come for us!›_

_‹Did you, Alloran? Did you really?› Feyorn demanded, unfazed. ‹The Yeerks are still out there, looking for new races to infest! You haven't stopped them, you've just set them back. Was it worth it? Was it worth wiping out the Hork-Bajir race?›_

_‹You're a _fool_, Feyorn,› Alloran growled, his tail slicing through the air to emphasize the point. ‹Just like Seerow. Just like the idiots who ordered the expedition to the Iari planet armed with only a pitifully small force.›_

_‹You were the one who befriended me, long ago,› said Feyorn softly. ‹What does that make you?›_

_‹At least I learn from my mistakes,› Alloran said coldly._

_Feyorn couldn't have looked more stunned if he'd been hit by the flat of a tail blade._

* * *

‹And that's not the worst one, either, is it?› the Yeerk jeered, yanking Alloran back into the present. ‹I have access to all of your memories. _All_ of them. So next time you want to pull a stunt like that, remember that no matter what you do … I can do much, much worse.›

Still shaken by the memory of the last time he'd spoken with the person he'd once called his _shorm_, Alloran once again succumbed to despair.

* * *

Having dealt with his insufferable host for now, Esplin ordered the guards to remove the shackles. It was a cumbersome business. He'd eventually have to figure out a more efficient way to keep the Andalite restrained.

The last chains were still being removed when Visser Two strode up to him.

"Congratulations on your new acquisition," the visser said. "I just saw your report. I'm still waiting to hear from the Council on your official promotion, but I assume you have earned visser rank at the very least. So I've gone ahead and ordered a Blade ship to be sent here from Olgin base. It should be here within the hour. It can't come soon enough, under the circumstances."

Esplin's main eyes narrowed. ‹What circumstances?›

"We have just gotten word that Andalites have launched a surprise attack on the home world." Visser Two looked at him shrewdly. "According to the report, your host is a ranking officer. Did you know anything about this?"

‹What?!›

Had Esplin somehow missed this in Alloran's memories? No, he couldn't have! He'd gone through all of the war-prince's military knowledge just so he could include the details in his report.

‹I—no, I know nothing!› He considered for a moment. ‹It must be the Andalite special forces. A highly classified mission. My host has been disgraced; he would not have been privy to such plans.›

Visser Two looked satisfied. "Fair enough. Then when the Blade ship arrives, I expect you to take it straight to the home world so you can aid our forces there."

‹Yes, Visser. I will. Only … ›

"Yes?" Visser Two prodded him.

‹One of my host's companions escaped into Zero-space with an extremely powerful weapon,› Esplin explained. ‹You cannot _begin_ to imagine its capabilities. If we could get our hands on it, we would be unstoppable! We would not only win the battle for our own world; we could crush the Andalites entirely!›

"That's all well and good, Sub-Visser, but what is your point?"

‹We hid a homing beacon aboard the Andalite ship while it was docked here. I simply ask permission to pursue the ship immediately if it should return to real space.›

Visser Two considered.

"Very well," he said at last. "Now, I have already ordered all the Controllers I can spare to assemble at Spaceport Four. You may choose your crew from among them, and I will have the rest join me aboard the Pool ship. Now go! We have very little time to lose."


	20. When Asteroids Attack

**Author's note: Hello again! Sorry for the absence—my school term was coming to an end and I realized that I had a million assignments to do before then so I had to drop everything, including this story. But now I'm caught up, and I will go back to the updating-every-two-weeks schedule. :)**

**Incidentally, I have done a lot of thinking about this story, and I have decided that I no longer like "Enter the Insane" as a title. I still want to keep "the rise of Esplin 9466"—I just need a main title that sounds cool with it. So please, give me suggestions!**

**EDIT: Thanks to anonymous reviewer Rhys for the new title! It's just the sort of thing I was looking for :)**

* * *

Esplin was glad he'd taken the opportunity to feed and rejuvenate in the pool when he did, because now everything was happening all at once.

The Blade ship had arrived, an impressively sleek black craft armed with the latest Dracon technology. Best of all, it was entirely _his _ship … and would remain so for the foreseeable future, for Esplin had just gotten word of his promotion to Visser Thirty-two, and it was the prerogative of every visser to command a Blade ship.

Then the Andalite ship had popped back into real space, not a moment too soon—for had the Blade ship itself been in Zero-space at the time, Esplin would have had no knowledge of the _Jahar_'s reentry.

It took far longer than Esplin would have liked to assemble his crew and prepare the Blade ship for liftoff, and he was thoroughly impatient by the time everything was ready.

All he cared about now was pursuing Elfangor and capturing the elusive Time Matrix. Everything else had been driven from his mind.

Including the significance of a certain cage which now stood empty by the Yeerk pool.

* * *

Hekliss too thought everything was happening ridiculously fast.

Had it been only a day ago that she and Esplin and Tarak had been living the mundane existence that security duty entailed? And now she found herself at the helm of Esplin's new Blade ship, while Tarak had been captured—or worse—by Andalites.

Hekliss would never have said anything to Esplin about it, but she privately thought this was the worst possible time for him to have acquired the Andalite host. If they were to successfully rescue Tarak, take back the Time Matrix, _and_ save the home world, then the last thing they needed was for Esplin to be helplessly overexcited about things like his new body and his promotion to visser and his shiny new Blade ship.

But she said nothing as she guided the Blade ship out of Zero-space into a region of space called the Graysha Nebula. Hekliss had seen nebulas before, but she had to admit that this one was quite spectacular, all bright shifting clouds of color, bathed in the light of distant stars. And there, in the midst of it all, floated the Andalite ship, the Time Matrix bound to its surface with glowing energy ropes.

Esplin opened a communications link.

‹Ah, Elfangor, I believe,› he said smugly. ‹Still have the Time Matrix, I hope? I'm here to take it from you.›

Elfangor's expression was hard and unreadable. ‹So, Sub-Visser Seven. You survived. Too bad.›

Hekliss peered closely at the screen. She could see the yellow-haired human in the background, warily gripping a shredder. The human who had been Tarak's host.

And hopefully, it still _was_ Tarak in there. But Hekliss had to admit it didn't look good. Why would the Andalite allow a known Controller to freely roam about the ship?

‹I did survive,› Esplin affirmed. ‹But you almost got me there, you really did. And by the way, it's no longer Sub-Visser Seven. I'm the first Yeerk to capture an Andalite body. I have already delivered more intelligence on Andalite fleet deployments than a century of spying could have yielded. So it's not _Sub-Visser_ anything anymore. You are addressing _Visser_ Thirty-two.›

_Enough posturing already,_ Hekliss thought irritably.

‹You're still just a slug as far as I'm concerned,› retorted the Andalite. ‹You want the Time Matrix? Come and take it from me. I promise you—›

TSSSSEEEEWWWW!

The Andalite's body jerked and fell forward—then his image vanished from the screen entirely.

"That was Tarak!" Hekliss burst out. "Tarak shot him! Tarak's alive!"

‹And now he's powering down for us!› Esplin observed excitedly. ‹Well. This should be easy now. Take us in!›

* * *

‹I need every Yeerk who is not otherwise occupied!› Esplin announced. ‹Rush the ship and ensure the Andalite is fully neutralized.›

He wasn't expecting any trouble, but it never hurt to be prepared. Especially now that he was so close to his goal. For there was the Time Matrix, clearly visible on the viewscreen, strapped to the outside of the Andalite ship.

So close.

The ultimate achievement … and the ultimate _power_.

He could stop the assault on the homeworld before it ever happened!

And then … and then what? What was the best course of action once he had the power to change history?

There would be time to think about that later. Right now, the Blade ship had just finished latching on to the Andalite vessel. The closest Hork-Bajir-Controller opened the hatch and leaped inside.

TSSSEEEEWWW!

The Hork-Bajir fell back, his body sprawled across the opening between the ships.

_Elfangor!_

How was that even possible?

Esplin was determined to find out. He grabbed his Dracon beam and angrily shoved past the now-unconscious Hork-Bajir-Controller … only to come face-to-face with Tarak, who was aiming a shredder.

At him!

… No.

_Not_ Tarak.

Esplin fired the Dracon beam. It was still set to stun, though, and the human simply tumbled backward into Elfangor.

It had all been a trick! A ruse. Loren had been _pretending_ she was still controlled by Tarak, had only _pretended_ to stun the Andalite. For Elfangor was very much conscious, although temporarily pinned to the floor by Loren's dead weight.

Esplin's mind raced. What to do now? How did this change things?

Too late, he saw that Elfangor's tail blade was still free—and here it came, whipping toward him!

Esplin flinched—

—but the blade flew right past him—

TSSSSWWWWEEEWW!

‹NOOOOOO!› he shrieked.

Elfangor's tail blade had hit the firing pad, sending a powerful shredder blast right into the Blade ship! The force of the blast threw the two ships apart, and Esplin was knocked to the ground.

‹You're a real source of agitation, Elfangor!_›_ he sputtered, enraged; and yet he couldn't keep a note of admiration out of his thought-speak. After all, the young Andalitehad managed to pulled off quite the clever trap. Somehow, within the past few hours, the formerly useless _aristh _had achieved a remarkable level of competence … becoming almost a match for Esplin himself.

Almost.

He aimed his Dracon straight at Elfangor.

‹Now _die!›_

* * *

Hekliss, along with everyone else on the Blade ship, had likewise been knocked off her feet by the shredder blast. Her Hork-Bajir claws scrabbled on the smooth floor as she attempted to right herself so she could get to the control panel.

The ship's environmental maintenance system kicked in then, closing the hatch and replenishing the air that had been lost to space. Taking several grateful gulps of oxygen, Hekliss staggered forward and half-crashed into the console.

Grabbing a safety handle to steady herself, she slowed the ship's motion and brought it back around towards the _Jahar_—

—just in time to see it get slammed by an asteroid!

_What?_

Hekliss was entirely confused. There had been no asteroids when they had first arrived. She would definitely have noticed them.

And an asteroid hitting the ship should have simply _hit_ it and bounced off, or else caused the side of it to collapse inward, but this one seemed to be shifting, melting, enveloping the _Jahar_ within its rocky mass …

_Impossible!_

Taking another deep breath, she aimed the Blade ship's Dracons directly at the asteroid. At least the bulk of its mass surrounded the _Jahar's_ engines, not its cabin, so she didn't have to worry about Esplin being caught in the blast.

TSSSSSSSSSSSEEEEEEEWWWWWWW!

But it was all for naught. The beam didn't faze the asteroid at all. It simply gave off a vivid glow, continuing to spread out over the surface of the _Jahar_ as it spun helplessly through space.

"Esplin!" she yelled in horror.

* * *

Esplin was at that moment tumbling out of control inside the spinning _Jahar_.

And he was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe.

‹What in _yaolin_ is wrong with your ship?!› he yelled internally at his host. ‹The backup oxygen supply should have been activated by now! Where's the _dapsen _air?!›

But Alloran did not reply, for their shared respiratory passages were now burning, their lungs screaming for oxygen, and the all-too-familiar darkness of oblivion began to set in …

* * *

Back on the Blade ship, an alarm began going off.

BRRRRREEEEEEEEEET! BRRRRREEEEEEEEET! BRRRRREEEEEEEEET!

"_Alert! Black hole detected. Activating autopilot."_

"Are you _serious!_" Hekliss yelled, peering out into space through the viewscreen.

But there it was, a black hole … or at least an enormous dark area that was likely enough to be a black hole. The nebula's shifting mists had obscured it until now.

And its gravity was slowly, inexorably pulling the _Jahar_ toward it!

Hekliss frantically prodded and manipulated the controls, but she had no idea how to override the safety feature that automatically propelled the Blade ship away from the black hole. And even if she did know, what could she do? The _Jahar_ was still wrapped in the asteroid's relentless grip, and her weapons were apparently powerless against it.

And speaking of the asteroids … here came several more! They were obviously somewhat capable of self-propulsion, because they were slowly converging on the Blade ship, seemingly unaffected by the black hole's gravity.

"_Autopilot deactivating_."

Apparently the computer had decided the ship was now a safe distance away.

Hekliss thought maybe they'd better make a run for Zero-space. Esplin and Tarak were obviously done for, and she had no idea how to defeat these eerie monster asteroids—

No.

Wait.

There _was_ a way.

Not to save her friends. But a way to get rid of the asteroids.

Hekliss shot out a tractor beam toward the nearest one and slung it around the ship in an arc. The beam's power immediately began draining alarmingly fast, far faster than it should have. Still, it held on long enough that when Hekliss finally let go, the asteroid flew back in the direction it had come—straight into the heart of the black hole.

"Yes!" she exulted. She waited a second for the beam to recharge itself, then quickly dispatched the remaining asteroids.

However, there was still no way to save the _Jahar_, though it was still within view, having not yet passed the black hole's event horizon. If Hekliss approached it again, the autopilot would simply reactivate, preventing her from going any further.

There was nothing she could do but watch helplessly as the _Jahar_ hurtled toward its doom …


	21. Time Travel Trouble

**Author's note: Again, a HUGE thanks to anonymous reviewer Rhys for the new title.**

* * *

‹Well, we have air, but no power. The asteroids drained the ship of power. We are falling towards a black hole.›

Esplin was only dimly aware of Elfangor's thought-speak at first. His head was pounding—_again_—as he struggled to remember where he was.

"Oh. That's not good."

The human's voice … Loren. Who was _not_ Tarak. Because she'd tried to shoot him.

Right. Tarak gone … and then the Blade ship damaged … and then he _had _Elfangor, he was going to kill him! but then that sudden impact had thrown off his aim … and then there was the spinning and the lack of air and not being able to breathe …

But he _was_ breathing now. There was air. Okay. Good. Although the lack of power meant there was no gravity, which was considerably disorienting. But at least the danger had passed.

‹If we fall into the black hole it will crush us down to the size of a carbon atom. The ship, all of us, crushed to the size of a single atom.›

Or maybe it hadn't.

By this time Alloran had also regained consciousness, and his mind seized on the idea of falling victim to the black hole. He welcomed death, for it would mean the end of his humiliating imprisonment.

‹Oh no you don't,› Esplin barked at him. ‹We are _not_ dead yet.› He quickly scanned Alloran's memories, and an idea slowly began to take shape in his mind.

"Yeah, we learned about black holes in school."

Yes. Esplin definitely had an idea. And if Elfangor would put aside his insufferable Andalite pride, it just might work.

‹There is only one way out, Andalite.›

Elfangor whirled around, cocking his tail to strike with startling suddenness.

‹Don't be a fool, Elfangor,› Esplin said irritably, quelling the momentary jolt of panic that had initially run through him. ‹What will be gained by you and me slashing each other up with these excellent Andalite tails?›

‹You have a better idea?› Elfangor retorted, not lowering his tail one inch. ‹Because I can think of a lot of good reasons to go tail-to-tail with you.›

Esplin searched his host's mind for a suitable retort. It wasn't hard to find. The cantankerous war-prince was still brimming with resentment for the young _aristh_.

Keeping one stalk eye fixed on his enemy's poised blade, Esplin forced a laugh. ‹You blame me for all your own failings? I'm not the one who left his friend back on the Taxxon world, trapped in that vile worm's body. I'm not the one who disobeyed his prince's orders and let ten thousand Yeerks escape. A bit of disobedience that helped cause poor old Alloran's downfall.›

The young _aristh_ deflated visibly. He didn't appreciate the reminder.

‹You have something to say, Yeerk?› he said grudgingly.

‹Yes. We are falling toward a black hole in a dead ship. But we have a way out.› Esplin paused for dramatic effect. ‹The Time Matrix.›

‹In case you haven't noticed, Visser,› Elfangor sneered, ‹the Time Matrix is strapped to the outside of the ship. The _outside_.› He looked thoughtful for a moment. ‹In fact, it's probably drifting free. It was held in place with energy ropes. Those are gone.›

‹Gravity,› Esplin reminded him. ‹There should be just enough attraction between the ship and the Time Matrix to keep it close.›

‹How do you propose getting to it?›

‹We would have to work together, Andalite.› He peered closely at Elfangor, trying to gauge his reaction. ‹And quickly.›

‹Work together?›

‹One of us will have to be reeled outside. On a rope or cable. Someone will have to hold that rope. And someone else will have to be on the end of that rope.›

The Andalite gave a derisive snort. ‹And do what? Pull the Time Matrix in through the hatch? That will mean losing all our air again. We don't have force fields anymore.›

‹Yes. It will be do-or-die. We can use the air hoods for an emergency five minutes.›

Elfangor stared stupidly. ‹What air hoods?›

‹You forget I control Alloran,› Esplin smugly reminded him. ‹And this was his ship. I know all the ship's secrets. There is a small supply of emergency hoods. Alloran kept them for just such an occasion.›

Elfangor appeared to think it over.

‹Here are my terms,› he said at last. ‹I will go outside. You hold the rope.›

Esplin barked out a cynical laugh. ‹And when you reach the Time Matrix you'll activate it and disappear, leaving me behind.›

‹No. I would not leave Loren ... I mean, the humans. Search Alloran's mind. He knows. You'll see it's true.›

A quick scan of Alloran's memory confirmed it. Evidently, the young fool still clung to a streak of sentimentality. It would no doubt be the death of him someday.

Quite soon, in fact, if Esplin had his way.

* * *

‹I see it!› Elfangor called from the end of their makeshift rope. ‹It's wedged in place by the engine pylons. Going after it.›

Esplin turned the end of the rope over in his hands. All he had to do was simply let go, and the insufferable _aristh_'s fate would be sealed. Elfangor would be stuck floating helplessly beside the ship, with mere minutes to go until his oxygen supply ran out.

An utterly foolish idea, of course. If Elfangor didn't bring in the Time Matrix they would all die.

Still, he enjoyed the thought that he _could_ do it. If he wanted to.

And the fact remained that Elfangor would never agree to use the Matrix to go to the Yeerk home world. Nor would he be willing to return to the Taxxon planet. Could they possibly agree upon a suitable destination before the air hoods depleted?

Not likely.

Elfangor had to go.

‹Okay. Pull!›

Even as he pulled on the rope, reeling the Andalite back in, Esplin readied his tail to strike—

—but his impatience betrayed him at the last moment, for in pulling Elfangor and the Time Matrix through the hatch, he yanked a little too hard and threw himself slightly off balance.

‹Well done, Andalite,› Esplin said lightly, hoping to divert Elfangor's attention long enough to restabilize himself and then attack. ‹Thirty seconds left to activate this thing.›

But Elfangor had evidently expected to be double-crossed. ‹Go ahead, Yeerk. Make your move,› he leered.

Twenty-five seconds left.

Twenty-four.

_Think, Esplin!_

He didn't even know how to operate the Time Matrix!

No choice. Had to figure it out. Had to figure it out and then use it before the Andalite could—

‹Touch,› said Elfangor. ‹The Matrix responds to touch. I think if we touch and form a mental link, we can—›

That was all Esplin needed to hear. He kicked off against the wall behind him, propelling himself toward the Time Matrix.

* * *

He wasn't sure what he expected to happen when he touched the great white sphere, but he definitely was not prepared for reality itself to explode into a dazzling multidimensional array of fragments that sent his mind reeling.

He could see everything, literally _every thing_, from every possible vantage point—past, future, inside, outside. It was like seeing for the first time, all over again! The wholly new kind of sensory input, the sheer information overload ...

He could watch his own mind think!

He could watch the way his own Yeerk brain interacted with Alloran's Andalite brain. He could see the way Alloran made futile attempts to resist his control … and he could see that Alloran, too, was taking all this in, beginning to watch their minds work together as well.

And now Esplin began to panic, because he'd been very careful never to allow Alloran access to his own thoughts. Not after the Aldrea incident, when his twin had pointed out what a terrible idea it had been. No, this had to stop.

What was he trying to do again?

Oh yes. Yeerk home world.

He carefully sketched out every detail of the home world in his imagination: the stormy green sky … the immense pools, much larger than the artificial pools he was used to … the _Garnuds_ and _Dralin_ tongues and other odd creatures that struggled for survival on the planet's arid surface …

But now came an assault of new images: mottled blue grass—a bright yellow sun lighting up an orange-red sky—Elfangor was directing the Time Matrix toward the Andalite home world!

Despite himself, Esplin felt excitement welling up within him. He'd always wanted to see the Andalite world.

No! Terrible idea. He'd be hopelessly outnumbered there. It would be practically a death sentence.

But now Alloran was doggedly focusing on Elfangor's images of the Andalite planet, reinforcing them with what little strength he could bring to bear.

‹No!› Esplin shrieked. ‹You're not here! You don't exist! This mind is _mine!_›

And indeed, Alloran's already-tenuous mental link to the Time Matrix withered away as his lungs began to gasp. The air hood had apparently run out. It would be a minute or so before the lack of oxygen began to affect Esplin's own Yeerk brain, but for now his mental link was intact. Still, there wasn't much time …

And then, unexpectedly, a fourth mind added her own images to the jumble … bright green grass … pale blue sky … strange, inexplicable structures …

And slowly, surely, the _Jahar_ grew fainter, more distant.

_We're going!_ Esplin thought. _But to where? Who's winning out?_

Out of nowhere came a laugh that seemed to shake the bowels of time itself …

and then Esplin was _there_.

* * *

_There_ being, by all appearances, the Yeerk home world.

‹Yes!› he exulted. ‹I did it!›

He scanned the area, realizing belatedly that he should have been more specific about _where_ on the Yeerk planet he wanted to go. For he seemed to be nowhere near any of the major Yeerk pools or their adjoining surface stations.

On the bright side, there were no signs of a battle going on up in orbit. No shredder fire streaked the sky, no silent bursts of light that would have signaled exploding fighters. His timing, at least, seemed to have been all right.

Unless, of course, he was simply too late.

But now that he was paying attention, the sky wasn't perfectly normal either. Up above, it seemed typical enough, the murky green sky flickering with static electricity. But further towards the horizon, it simply … _stopped_.

Beyond that were colorful patches that were completely out of place.

‹What in _yaolin_ is this trickery?› he demanded.

‹Don't ask _me_,› Alloran snorted. ‹You were the one who decided to use a time machine of wholly unknown origin instead of letting us die in peace. Who knows what kind of effects could have occurred?›

‹Was I talking to you?› Esplin said irritably.

Alloran fell silent.

Esplin's stalk eyes scanned the area again, trying to make sense of it. The ground, too, seemed to dissolve into patches past a certain point.

Gradually he became aware of a faint whirring sound that he vaguely recognized, but couldn't place at first. Then, in the midst of the dry, spiky Yeerkish grass, a familiar yellow-and-black shape caught his eye … and then another.

‹Well!› he said with delighted surprise. ‹It's certainly been a while since I last saw _you_ two. Jarex! Larex! Come here!›

The Mortrons made their way through the tall grass, bending it under their wheels. It was slow going, as they had not evolved for such terrain, but eventually they rolled to a stop beside him.

He wondered about the rest of the creatures that had been part of his menagerie on Visser Two's Blade ship. No one on the Yeerk world had seemed interested in looking after them, so he'd had to turn them loose into the wild and hope for the best. But Jarex and Larex, at least, seemed to have adapted all right.

Well, now that he was a visser he should have more clout. Surely he could put some useless peon on pet duty.

Anyway. That wasn't the priority right now. First, he needed to reach civilization so he could contact the Council of Thirteen and warn them of the impending Andalite threat.

And he should probably go investigate the strange colors in the distance.

* * *

As he approached the nearest patch, with the Mortrons following closely behind, he began to see that it represented an entirely different world.

Here, the grass was shorter, softer, and mostly bright blue, although in some places it was red or green. The trees grew tall, instead of the gangly, disk-shaped trees that carpeted parts of the Yeerk landscape, and they were just as colorful as the grass. Overhead, the orange sky was streaked with gold.

‹It's _our_ world,› Alloran said in disbelief. ‹The Andalite world. How is that possible?›

It was completely eerie. Behind them was the drab Yeerk world, looking relatively normal. But just ahead, an invisible vertical barrier seemed to cleave both ground and sky in two, cleanly separating the Yeerk and Andalite environments.

Tentatively, he stuck a hoof across the line dividing the two worlds. Nothing exceptional happened. The Andalite grass tasted perfectly ordinary. It was admittedly quite satisfying, as it had been quite some time since Alloran had tasted the grass of home … and, tapped into Alloran's brain as he was, Esplin experienced the same pleasure right along with him.

A movement in the distance caught Esplin's eye.

Looking along the dividing line, he saw that it terminated at a pool of water fed by a waterfall—an impossibly placed waterfall with no discernible source. It just stood there awkwardly, not part of a continuous ridge or connected to any higher ground whatsoever. A tower of grass-covered rock and falling water.

On the far side of the pool was an even more alien landscape, the grass a deep green, the sky a cloudy pale blue.

And there, by the waterfall, he could faintly make out two figures: an Andalite … and a human.

‹_You_ two did this,› he realized. ‹So. None of us prevailed in the end. This never was the true Yeerk planet. The Time Matrix simply created this … mashed-together mockup … of three different worlds.›

He scanned the area again. Yes. The patches in the sky aligned with those on the ground. And now he realized they weren't quite as haphazardly arranged as he'd originally assumed. No, they formed a recognizable pattern …

‹A hyper spiral,› Alloran realized, and then regretted it. Why should he be helping the Yeerk?

But his subconscious mind kept working away, and Esplin could easily follow his thought process. _Yes. A hyper spiral. And at the center of the spiral, the Time Matrix, sustaining this odd little universe._

Could he go straight there and use the Matrix to get away from this mess? What would that do?

He thought harder about it, piecing together the fragments of Alloran's knowledge. Though Alloran had never been much of a scientist, physics was arguably his strongest subject.

So. If Esplin used the Matrix, this mini-universe would collapse, no doubt about that. Elfangor and Loren might be returned to the doomed _Jahar_, or they might be pulled along with him in a sort of wake effect. He wasn't quite sure which.

But he could see them right now, over there by the waterfall. Seemingly defenseless. And now that he had Jarex and Larex with him, he suddenly realized, he would be more than a match for Elfangor. The human of course would pose no threat at all.

Yes, he decided. Best to eliminate them here and now. Now that he had the chance.

Signaling the Mortrons to follow him, Esplin galloped swiftly toward the pool.


	22. Showdown

Esplin had just reached the edge of the pool when he caught the human staring at him.

He glared right back at her with his main eyes, while his stalk eyes watched the two Mortrons skid to a halt beside him.

Loren turned to the Andalite, who by this time had also noticed Esplin's presence. "Elfangor, what are those things?" she asked, her voice carrying clearly across the water.

‹I have no idea,› Elfangor told her. ‹I can't imagine what evolutionary path would conceivably have created a creature with wheels.›

_Hah. So they're impressed by my Mortrons already,_ Esplin main eyes formed a grin. _Wait until I show them just how impressive they really are._

‹So, young Elfangor, we meet again. As you see, I brought my pets: Jarex and Larex.› He smirked in Loren's direction. ‹And you brought your pet, too. Your pet human.›

"You know, Elfangor, I'm beginning to see why you Andalites really dislike Yeerks," Loren said, glaring at Esplin again. "Whatever body they may be in, they still have the manners of slugs."

Well. She was certainly a bold creature, he'd give her that much. ‹Brave little human girl,› he taunted her. ‹Do you understand that even now my people are on their way to evaluate your primitive world? Do you understand that within a few years your people, you humans, will be slaves of the Yeerk Empire?›

He had no way of knowing if this was true, of course … and with the imminent attack on the home world it probably _wasn't_ true yet. But it would be, sooner or later.

"Blah, blah, blah," Loren replied.

Esplin was confused. The translator chip in Alloran's head, which was normally quite reliable, had no interpretation for this particular mouth-sound. And by this time, Esplin had already forgotten most of the Chapman host's knowledge of human culture.

"You do a lot of talking for a slug," she went on. "You think I'm scared of you?"

‹Yes,› Esplin said smugly. ‹I know you're scared of me.›

At this, the human crouched down and thrust her hand into the water, then stood back up again and waved her arm in a wide vertical arc. Esplin assumed this was simply meant to be some sort of dramatic gesture, until—

BONK!

‹Ahhh!› he yelped.

Something had hit him in the face!

He saw it fall to the ground. It was a rock. A dull gray rock, with rounded edges. Nothing impressive … and yet the human had managed to attack him with it!

‹Well, well, Yeerk,› Alloran sneered. ‹Letting _humans_ catch you off guard now? I guess I can look forward to a quick end after all—_you're_ obviously not going to last very long.›

‹Quiet, you fool,› Esplin snapped.

He glared across the pool at his enemies once again.

‹So,› he seethed, using thought-speak everyone could hear. ‹You propel rocks at me! You'll be very sorry you _ever_ propelled a rock at me, human. Jarex! Larex! Attack!›

The Mortrons complied, accelerating around the circumference of the pool. The human panicked, backing up a few steps. Elfangor, on the other hand, seemed frozen as he followed the Mortrons with his stalk eyes.

‹You admire my pets, Andalite?› Esplin said, unable to keep a smug grin off his face. ‹They are a species called Mortrons. As a young lieutenant I went on a survey party to a world that was later destroyed when its sun went nova. We thought we might be able to make Controllers of these Mortrons, but that didn't work out. Their brains are simply too tiny to accommodate us. Instead, I brought two of them home as pets.›

Now the Mortrons were over halfway to their goal, moving almost at full speed. Elfangor adopted a defensive stance, raising his tail.

‹They have amazing capacities, my young friend Elfangor,› Esplin added. ‹As you will soon see.›

The Mortrons had just crossed from the familiar Yeerk landscape into the strange green grass when their winged parts separated from their bases and dove towards the Andalite.

"Elfangor!" the human screamed.

Esplin laughed. ‹Kill, Jarex! Kill, Larex! Kill the Andalite!›

Leaping out of the Mortrons' path, Elfangor swept his tail through the air and cleaved first Larex, then Jarex neatly in two.

But Esplin knew he only had to wait ... and sure enough, the four Mortron halves slowly began to grow. Any moment now, Elfangor would notice. Any moment—

Elfangor's four eyes widened suddenly as he looked down at the ground.

Oh yes. He'd noticed.

‹Are you doing the math in your head, Elfangor?› Esplin crowed. ‹They regenerate! Cut an attacking Mortron in pieces and each piece grows again to become a complete Mortron. It's the killing frenzy. It gives them an enzyme boost that makes them regenerate! Try to kill these four and you'll have eight. Kill those eight and you'll have sixteen! Thirty-two! Sixty-four!› By this time he was practically shrieking with glee.

‹Loren, I don't know what to do,› the young _aristh_ wailed. ‹If only I had a shredder!›

"Can you outrun them?"

‹Yes, I can. But you can't! They are faster than you are. And I won't leave you.›

"You won't have to. Maybe. How strong is your back? Never mind, it must be strong enough. Elfangor, don't be offended, okay?"

‹Offended by what?›

"Hold still. I'm gonna try something."

And with that, the human girl simply hoisted herself onto Elfangor's back like it was the most ordinary thing in the world!

"Now let's run," she urged, and within seconds the Andalite was swiftly galloping away with the human clinging desperately to his upper torso.

* * *

‹What is he _doing?_› Alloran yelled in outrage.

‹Getting away, that's what he's doing,› Esplin muttered grimly, for though the Mortrons doggedly pursued him, Elfangor was gradually pulling ahead.

Now that his initial shock had passed, Alloran had to admit that it had been quite a resourceful move. He just hoped Elfangor wouldn't make a regular practice of carrying humans on his back—although he wouldn't necessarily put it past him. Even now, Alloran still harbored doubts about Elfangor's sanity.

‹Elfangor may be swift, but I guarantee he'll tire out before the Mortrons do,› Esplin said. ‹This universe we've created can't be _that_ big. They'll find him eventually.›

He turned away from the pool then, setting off once more in the direction of the Time Matrix.

* * *

He had to pass through a very large stretch of Andalite ground on his way to the center of the hyper spiral, and here his Andalite body instinctively relaxed, recognizing the air and grass of home.

He was strongly tempted to linger here a while. Once again, the stress of the past few hours was catching up with his body. After all, he had suffered several minutes of oxygen deprivation back on the Jahar.

He found himself wishing he'd taken the opportunity to have a drink back at the pool. Then, of course, he'd been quite impatient to get to the Time Matrix. But now that he'd been walking a while, he wondered whether it was really necessary to be in such a hurry. Especially since when he last saw Elfangor and Loren, they'd been running away at top speed … in the opposite direction of the Matrix.

Yes, there really was no need to rush. It was probably beyond the _aristh_'s ability to deduce the Matrix's whereabouts. He and the human would probably spend hours wandering aimlessly through this disjointed universe.

Esplin spotted a small stream in the distance and began cantering toward it. Upon reaching it, he stuck a hoof in the cool, lazily flowing water and gratefully sucked it up his leg.

He decided he'd move on in a little while. For now, this was a good place to rest.

* * *

Esplin awoke with a start.

‹How were we out for so long?!› he scolded his host. ‹I thought Andalites were supposed to be watchful sleepers!›

‹It's not my fault you insist on abusing my body,› Alloran sneered. ‹It needed to recover from the physical strain, that's all.›

But Esplin ignored him, for he was mainly appalled that he himself had fallen asleep at all. Yeerks did occasionally fall into an unconscious rest state, particularly if their host brain was in sleep mode itself, but they did not need to sleep on a regular basis the way many other creatures did. There was no reason why sleep should have overtaken his Yeerk self now … but it had, and he suddenly feared that Elfangor might have managed to solve the puzzle of the Time Matrix's location in the meantime.

He took off at a sprint for the center of the hyper spiral.

‹And there you go again,› Alloran remarked. ‹You never learn, do you, Yeerk?›

* * *

The whirling vortex of space-time that marked the hyper spiral's origin was well within Esplin's view when the four Mortrons suddenly found him.

‹I suppose you useless beasts finally got rid of the Andalite for me,› Esplin sneered irritably. ‹Took you long enough.›

But he had other problems at the moment. The closer he got to the vortex, the more the time distortion accelerated the growth of his hooves, which he found quite annoying. In the end he could only stagger clumsily forward, pausing every so often to cut away the excess hoof with his own tail blade.

* * *

After what seemed far too long of a time, Esplin pushed through to the center of the vortex.

It had been a wild, eerie journey through this place where the three different universes swirled together in a whirling, fragmented tornado … but here, at the very center, all was calm.

Here, as Esplin had predicted, was the Time Matrix.

And standing next to it were two very familiar figures.

‹What?› Esplin blurted. ‹The Andalite child and his pet? Still alive?›

Although, he suddenly realized, the term _child_ was no longer quite accurate. The time distortion that had been a mere inconvenience to Esplin's full-grown Andalite host had visibly aged the young _aristh_. Elfangor now appeared to be nearly an adult.

‹Yes, still alive,› Elfangor sneered, his green eyes glittering dangerously.

At that moment, the Mortrons rolled out of the vortex, which still whirled steadily around them.

Esplin scanned the room briefly, assessing the situation. He saw that the human, who was clutching an odd-looking tapered stick, had sprouted great curving claws. Her yellowish hair cascaded to the ground in a pile.

"Elfangor," she complained.

The Andalite obligingly cut away the excess claw. His tail moved with swift, sure strokes, and a knot of apprehension suddenly formed in Esplin's stomach, for Elfangor had already proved to be a formidable tail-fighter in Alloran's view. Now that he had, in addition to the speed and agility of youth, all the strength of a full-grown adult … could Esplin win against him in a tail fight?

He wasn't sure.

He _really_ wasn't sure.

‹I suppose we'll have to work together again,› he said nervously.

‹The same thing would happen,› Elfangor sneered. ‹Another compromised universe. No better than this one. Only this time we'd all be more careful to bring allies and weapons from our memory.›

‹At least then we'd have a fair fight,› Esplin pointed out.

The human looked at Elfangor. "He doesn't want to fight you one-on-one."

‹No, he'd rather have a host of allies and weapons,› the Andalite agreed.

"No, it's more than that," Loren insisted. "He's afraid to fight you one-on one. I saw it in his face."

‹You? Afraid of a little _aristh?_› Alloran mocked.

‹He's not so little anymore,› Esplin shot back.

‹No, he isn't,› Alloran agreed. ‹And he's quite a good fighter, wouldn't you agree?› He began to replay his memories of Elfangor's very first tail fight, in which the _aristh_ had thoroughly sliced up a couple of Hork-Bajir-Controllers.

Esplin winced at the gory images. ‹I will make you suffer for this later!›

‹It doesn't look like there will _be_ a later,› Alloran said smugly. ‹I have to say, I will enjoy watching you die at the tail of my _aristh_.›

‹_You'd die too!_›

‹And I would enjoy that no less.›

"He _is_ afraid, Elfangor," Loren repeated.

‹Afraid of _what?_› Esplin said out loud, forcing a laugh. ‹Of this Andalite child? My Mortrons and I will annihilate him!›

"Really? So why not do it?" the human mocked. "Why talk about working together?" She turned to her companion. "Alloran has seen you tail fight, Elfangor. That knowledge is the visser's now, right? That's why he's scared."

‹I'll be sure to kill you slowly, human,› Esplin seethed angrily. ‹Kill!› he ordered the Mortrons.

Four winged Mortrons rose from their bases, two diving toward Elfangor and the other two toward Loren. Esplin followed the ones headed for Elfangor, hoping to get in a lucky tail strike while the Andalite was distracted.

One Mortron swooped toward Elfangor, who knocked it aside with the flat of his tail. It fell to the ground, unconscious.

The other Mortron now tore at Elfangor's head. Esplin took the opportunity to strike—but Elfangor quickly parried the blow. Esplin whipped his tail again and again, and finally the third blow connected, opening a large gash across Elfangor's chest.

‹Ah, not so fast after all, are you, Andalite?› Esplin yelled triumphantly.

With renewed hope, he struck once more, but this time Elfangor managed to knock the blade aside. ‹This fight isn't over yet, Visser!›

Esplin successfully blocked the next strike, but then—

‹Aaaahhhh!›

—Elfangor's blade struck, right above his left foreleg! Enraged, Esplin lashed out with his own tail.

But Elfangor parried the blow—

And struck _again!_

Esplin watched in stunned horror as the blade sliced into his upper arm.

‹Wake up, Yeerk,› his host taunted. ‹You let him cut you up pretty badly there.›

‹Shut up,› Esplin snarled. He took a second to reassess the situation. There was still a Mortron harassing Elfangor, swooping down toward his face. Timing it to coincide with the Mortron's impact, Esplin twisted around and fired the muscles in his tail once more.

Suddenly—

_Thonk!_

Something hit the Mortron, knocking it right out of the air!

"Softball!" the human yelled, and Elfangor knocked Esplin's blade harmlessly aside.

The Mortron had been hit by a small spherical object which had come flying from the human's direction, and Esplin suddenly realized she had _thrown_ it. Just like she had thrown the rock earlier. And now she was bashing the remaining Mortron repeatedly with her tapered stick.

‹Oh, look, is that the last of them?› Alloran mocked in his head. ‹No more Mortrons. You're on your own now. And quite wounded, at that. I can see how _this_ is going to end.›

‹Your Mortrons are done for, Visser,› Elfangor unknowingly echoed. ‹It's just you and me now. Tail-to-tail.›

He stepped confidently toward Esplin, tail poised.

‹You think you've won, Andalite?› Esplin sputtered as he backed away, desperately trying to smother the rage and panic that now threatened to overwhelm him. ‹You think you can kill me now? Guess again. You haven't thought it through. But then again, I have the advantage of adding Alloran's Andalite knowledge to my own. What do you think will happen to whoever is left behind in this universe once it is broken apart?›

Confusion broke out across Elfangor's face, making him temporarily drop the attack stance.

‹What? Over your head, is it?› Esplin mocked. ‹A collapsed time line returns us each to our own proper space-time location.›

‹So you go back to the Jahar,› Elfangor realized. ‹Back to being sucked into a black hole. I can live with that, Yeerk. I don't care how you die. Here, from my tail. Or there, drawn helplessly into a black hole. So long as you die. You are an abomination. The first Andalite-Controller. I just want you to be the last.›

"l told you he was scared to fight you," the human remarked.

‹I guess you were right.›

Esplin glared at them both. He would have liked nothing better than to eliminate that obnoxious human right then … but of course Elfangor would have stepped in to defend her.

‹The day will come, Elfangor, when I will destroy you,› he said. ‹I will make it personal. I will make it very personal.›

Then he leaped back into the vortex wall, leaving Elfangor and Loren—and the Time Matrix—behind.

* * *

‹So you're going to bank on the extremely small probability that when they use the Time Matrix, the wake effect will be strong enough to pull us along?› Alloran demanded. ‹You'd have much better luck if you stayed and fought, you know.›

Esplin ignored him.

‹How can you call yourself a warrior when you're so afraid of Andalite tail blades?›

_Not of tail blades_, Esplin thought. _Of dismemberment. Of having my own body torn to pieces before my eyes._

But of course, he would never, ever tell Alloran that.


	23. Comeback

"I don't be_lieve _it," said Hekliss 8275.

"Don't believe what?" Iniss 226 demanded.

After escaping the living asteroids, Hekliss had taken the ship to the nearest repair facility, which happened to be the lonely outpost on the barren moon that the Yeerks called Olgin base. Olgin was, admittedly, the nearest point to most places in the galaxy—the Yeerks had chosen it for its extremely convenient Zero-space transit point. As such, its spaceport was its most active facility, and the Yeerks on Olgin were frequently in the business of fixing up ships.

But the repairs on the ship were now complete, and neither Hekliss nor Iniss nor anyone else knew what to do next. They had no commander. They had as yet received no orders. All the higher-ups had been too busy dealing with the fiasco on the Yeerk home world. So with nothing else to do, Hekliss had been idly wandering about the Blade ship when she decided on a whim to venture into the docking bay.

And there she had gotten the surprise of her life.

She grabbed Iniss by the shoulder and spun him around. "Just _look_," she said, gesturing toward the ship that should not be there. That _couldn't_ be there. It was _impossible._

"An Andalite ship!" Iniss gasped. "What is an Andalite ship doing here?"

"Not just any Andalite ship," Hekliss insisted. "If I hadn't seen it fall into that black hole with my own eyes … I'd swear it was _that_ ship. The one we were just chasing after."

Iniss stared at her. "But it can't be, right?"

"No. It can't." She squinted toward the ship. "But I don't see how it could be any _other_ Andalite ship. How could we have been infiltrated by Andalites and not know it? How does an Andalite ship come to be just _sitting there_ in the docking bay as if it belonged here?"

"What are we going to do?"

"There's only one thing _to_ do," Hekliss said, unholstering her Dracon beam. "I'm going in. Cover me."

* * *

As Esplin expected, the Time Matrix had transported him back to the _Jahar_. However, the _Jahar_ itself was not where he expected it to be.

For one thing, instead of the blackness of space, the viewscreen showed curved walls and rows upon rows of Bug fighters.

For another, a very familiar Hork-Bajir-Controller stood in front of the open hatch, brandishing a Dracon beam.

‹Hekliss?›

She dropped the Dracon. "_Esplin?_"

‹What are you doing here?›

"What are _you_ doing here and how are you not dead?"

‹I would like to know the answer to that myself.›

"Esplin … " She trailed off, momentarily speechless. "Okay. Okay. I know we've all joked about you surviving improbable situations, but _this_. This is _beyond_ improbable. Your ship was ensnared by the asteroid. _You were sinking into a black hole._ I cannot come up with a single reasonable explanation why you should be here, now, _alive._"

‹Well I _am_ here. And I am alive, unless I missed something.›

Hekliss only stared incredulously at him.

Then she sighed. "Well, don't get me wrong, I'm definitely glad. I thought I was stuck here on this Kandrona-forsaken rock with nobody familiar except Iniss, and he doesn't count."

‹Who's Iniss?›

Hekliss gave him a look. "Your _security guard_, Iniss?"

‹I have a lot of security guards.›

"Never mind then. Anyway, so what's the plan?"

‹What do you mean, what's the plan?›

"This is _your_ Blade ship, _Visser Thirty-two_. I got it all fixed up for you. Now you need to tell us where we're going next."

Esplin closed his main eyes. ‹You haven't even told me where we are.›

"Olgin base."

‹Ah. You meant _t__hat_ Kandrona-forsaken rock ... Well, it's better than being dead. So why are we here?›

"Because the ship needed extensive repairs. If you remember, the Andalite ship—_this_ _very ship_, as a matter of fact—blew a gigantic hole in it. The Pool went on to the home world, of course, since it was unharmed."

His eyes flew open again. ‹The home world! We still need to join the fight there—›

"No need," Hekliss told him. "We lost. The Andalites have taken it."

‹Rrrrggh!› Esplin cried, swinging his tail into the bulkhead in frustration.

Hekliss gave him a concerned look.

‹I was _so_ close!› he lamented. ‹So close to the Time Matrix, so close to setting _everything_ right!› Then it dawned on him. ‹Elfangor. Elfangor still has the Time Matrix, doesn't he? We can still get it back from him! But Elfangor would never have come here. Not to Olgin. Where would he have gone?›

"Esplin, what _are_ you going on about?"

‹You asked where we are going?› Esplin said, grinning an eyes-only Andalite grin. ‹I'll tell you where: the Andalite home world.›

* * *

"The_ Andalite_ world? Have you lost all sense? We can't go to the Andalite home world!"

‹We have an Andalite ship,› Esplin pointed out. ‹And I am by all appearances an Andalite. It will be perfect! So the Andalites took our world. That's only a minor setback. We have very little need for our home planet these days. But now imagine us infiltrating _their_ world, beneath their very notice! We will defeat them from the inside out! We will go to the Andalite planet, find the Time Matrix, and take it back from them! They'll never be expecting it!›

Hekliss narrowed her eyes skeptically. "Won't this Elfangor person tell the other Andalites who you are?"

‹That's a definite possibility,› Esplin allowed. ‹But you forget: As an Andalite, I am not limited to this body. I can take on all manner of disguises. I can _morph_.›

"That's right, I'd forgotten," Hekliss said. "Still … this plan is awfully ambitious, Esplin. Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Esplin looked affronted. ‹I always know what I'm doing!›

"Really? Need I remind you of all the times you've almost died?"

‹That's because people keep trying to kill me.›

"_Obviously_," she said exasperatedly. "My point still stands. You almost died. Esplin secondary almost died. And Tarak … what about Tarak? Did he survive the black hole too?"

‹He was not aboard the _Jahar_ that I saw,› Esplin admitted. ‹He is no longer controlling the human female. Our earlier assumption was incorrect.›

"So you mean … well … there's no way the Andalite would have let him survive, is there?"

‹He might have,› Esplin countered. ‹Elfangor can be irrationally sentimental at times. He refused to destroy an entire poolful of Yeerks when he had the chance.› He paused, considering. ‹Then again ... there is no Yeerk pool here aboard the _Jahar ..._ I doubt Elfangor would make the effort to keep a hostless Yeerk alive without a pool.›

"So you're saying Tarak _is_ dead."

Esplin simply stared at her for a moment. Then, reluctantly, he said, ‹That would appear to be the case.›

"You see what I mean!" Hekliss cried. "You come up with all these ideas, and yes, sometimes they turn out well for you, but sometimes we barely escape with our lives! And now one of us _didn't!_ There were four of us, and now there are only three. It could just as easily have been two, or one! I don't want to be the last one left because the rest of you didn't know how to stay out of trouble."

‹What would you have me do?› Esplin snapped. ‹Hide out on the home world until the war with the Andalites is over? And now that's not even a possibility anymore! Everything we do involves danger, Hekliss. What purpose is there in trying to avoid it?›

That got a sneer from Alloran. ‹This from the Yeerk who chose to risk death in a black hole rather than go tail-to-tail with his enemy.›

"It's called risk management, Esplin," Hekliss said, exasperated. "_Yes_, there's danger involved in being stationed on the Taxxon world, or going off in search of new host planets. But _you_ are suggesting that we go to a planet—one that's completely unfamiliar to us, by the way—where our greatest enemies outnumber us by thousands to one. That's an entirely new level of danger!"

‹It is a planet familiar to _me_,› Esplin insisted. ‹Or at least to my host. I _know_ the Andalite planet now. I know how we can get in and begin operations safely, without arousing suspicion. What is the point of having this host body if I don't make the best possible use of it?›

He peered closely at his sister, waiting for a reply, but none came. She simply stared reproachfully at him.

‹The Andalite world _is_ my host's native habitat, you know,› he added. ‹It _belongs_ there. Just like our Hork-Bajir hosts were perfectly suited to the Hork-Bajir world.›

"Yes, but what about the rest of your crew? Hork-Bajir and Taxxons are going to look slightly out of place on the Andalite world."

‹I will not need many. I will hide the Blade ship elsewhere in the Andalite system, and leave most of the crew to maintain its functioning. I will need very few soldiers to accompany me to the planet surface itself. Perhaps none at all.›

"And you're sure you can do all that without getting the attention of their planetside security?"

‹Quite sure.› Esplin smirked. ‹The Andalites have always underestimated us. They never seriously believed we could capture and infest one of their own, for example, and as you can see I did _that_ quite successfully. Likewise, they would never expect us to dare to venture so near their home. Not with just the one Blade ship. They would expect an armada.›

"I see."

‹I know how the Andalites think, you see,› Esplin continued. ‹They may be the most technologically sophisticated race in the galaxy, but in their arrogance they really are terribly naïve. They think they know how we Yeerks operate.› He grinned. ‹I will show them how utterly wrong they are.›

Hekliss still had her doubts ... but one look at the raw excitement shining in her brother's eyes told her she would never convince him to abandon the idea.

"All right," she said at last. "So what do you need me to do?"

* * *

Unlike some Yeerks, Iniss 226 welcomed the announcement that they would be traveling to the Andalite system.

He'd lived the first part of his life on the home world, in the colossal Sulp Niar pool. Unlike the small artificial pool in which Esplin and Hekliss had been born, Sulp Niar teemed with a diverse population of millions of Yeerks, who throughout the millennia of their existence had formed remarkably elaborate social structures.

Among them were the members of the highly inbred Iniss clan. These Yeerks claimed to be superior in every way, refusing to reproduce with anyone outside their own group. In reality, no one thought the Inisses were very important besides the Inisses themselves. But they were hungry for glory, and Iniss 226 was no exception.

Going to the Andalite home world didn't strike Iniss as particularly hazardous prospect. After all, the Blade ship had originally been en route to battle the Andalites on the Yeerk home world. _That_ would have been dangerous; he could easily have died in combat. In comparison, a stealth mission on the Andalite world seemed a much safer prospect.

And maybe, just maybe, this would give Iniss the opening he needed to advance through the ranks. He'd never managed to draw the attention of his then-sub-visser back on the Taxxon world. But now, now that the visser would have to evaluate his subordinates on factors other than their courage and skill in battle, two traits which Iniss admittedly lacked … perhaps his chance had finally come.

* * *

Esplin chose to hide the Blade ship on one of the Andalite system's more distant planets, a barren, crater-pocked rock in which the Andalites had long ago lost interest.

"So how many people are you taking with you?" Hekliss wanted to know.

‹I've decided I only need two,› Esplin said. ‹You, and Iniss 226.›

Hekliss groaned. "Did you have to pick Iniss?"

‹He has made himself quite useful during our journey here. Mostly readying the _Jahar_ for its upcoming mission. Is there a reason you object to him?›

"He's not a bad choice," Hekliss admitted. "He did help me rescue your brother back on the Taxxon world. He was just really obnoxious about it … So I'm not really thrilled about being stuck on a strange planet with just you and him for the foreseeable future. But I'll live. At least I know what to expect from him."

‹Good,› Esplin replied. ‹So. After we land, the two of you will be monitoring the Andalite communication channels for news of Elfangor and the Time Matrix.›

"And what will _you_ be doing?"

‹Many things,› Esplin said enigmatically. ‹You'll see.›

* * *

They landed the _Jahar_ in a small clearing less than a day's run from the Andalite world's primary spaceport.

With his knowledge of the Andalite communication channels, both military and civilian, Esplin showed Hekliss and Iniss how to navigate the various data streams and which ones to pay closest attention to. Then, when he was confident they had things under control, he announced he was going out to do some information-gathering of his own.

"You're leaving us alone here?" Hekliss demanded. "When you will be back?"

‹Within one feeding cycle. Don't worry, the ship's sensors should detect any nearby Andalite presence. And if that happens, you'll be fine if you stay inside. They'll just assume it belongs to a high-ranking warrior who is home on leave.› He grinned. ‹Which, for the most part, is perfectly true.›

‹It is _not_,› Alloran growled. ‹You know very well I haven't been granted leave—if the High Command discovered us they'd charge me with desertion. And that's assuming Elfangor _hasn't_ alerted them about you.›

‹I know that,› Esplin retorted. ‹But I'm not _going_ to be discovered. You know how your people are. You know no one will closely investigate someone's personal fighter in unclaimed territory: they'll assume the owner of the ship is deliberately seeking solitude, and quickly vacate the area to respect his privacy.›

Alloran knew this, of course, since Esplin had drawn all of it from his own thoughts. It only exacerbated his eternally foul mood.

‹You would know better than anyone—you, the disgraced war-prince, the witness of Seerow's folly,› Esplin sneered. ‹Shall I list all the family and friends of yours who have lost their lives, thanks to your people's naïveté?› He laughed. ‹Don't try to tell me I'll be found out. It won't happen. Andalites simply aren't suspicious enough.›

Alloran gave up, sinking back into his private despair, while Esplin grabbed a handheld Dracon beam from their supplies and stepped outside.


	24. A Whole New World

The Andalite world.

The _real_ Andalite world, this time.

This part of the planet was different from the patches of Andalite environment he'd seen back in the Time Matrix's artificial universe. That had been mostly open field, with a few trees growing along the banks of the stream. This clearing, on the other hand, was bounded by a densely packed forest, filled with trees of every hue imaginable.

He ventured into the trees. Here there was very little grass underhoof, which was annoying. Still, that was the reason why they had landed the _Jahar_ here in the first place: No Andalite family had claimed this land for grazing. And the trees would provide plenty of food for the Hork-Bajir-Controllers.

It didn't take Esplin long to find what he was looking for. They were everywhere, leaping here and there among the foliage, blinking their great bulbous eyes. _Hoobers_. Dozens of them. Easily the most ubiquitous creature in this region of the planet. These small reptilian creatures, blue with two orange stripes down their back, could jump distances of up to a few feet, firing their back legs like springs.

Setting the Dracon beam on low power, Esplin aimed at the nearest _hoober_ and fired.

* * *

The minimal Dracon blast only knocked the creature out for a moment or so, but that was all he needed.

Within minutes, as the _hoober_ scampered off into the underbrush, Esplin was concentrating on the new DNA swimming in his Andalite veins.

And slowly at first, then faster, he began to change.

* * *

Morphing was new and yet not new to him, for Alloran had morphed before. And as a Controller, Esplin was no stranger to the idea of taking on a new body.

Still, watching his own host body warp and shift this way was positively eerie. First was the shrinking, a sensation that felt oddly like falling forever. Then his own blue Andalite fur began to melt together into the _hoober_'s rough skin. The seven fingers on each of his hands ran together into four skinny digits with round suction-cup-like tips that radiated from his wrist in an X shape. These were what enabled the _hoober_ to cling to nearly any surface.

His upper torso fell forward until it aligned with his lower body. His four legs reoriented themselves to extend outward from his body, bending first up and then down, with his hindmost legs longer and stronger than the others. His hooves each divided into four suctioning digits, mimicking his hands.

His eye stalks shortened and disappeared, and the eyes themselves slid back along his head as it flattened into the _hoober'_s more streamlined skull. His face bulged outward, tapering to a hollow point, which the _hoober_ used to suck the nectar out of the various flowers that grew in the Andalite forests and meadows.

His tail became shorter and stubbier, the blade at its tip shrinking away into nothing, and he no longer had such precise control over its movement.

Soon, he knew, the creature's mind would surface, and he tried to steady himself. But Alloran had only ever morphed three creatures—a Hork-Bajir, a Taxxon, and the lethargic, tree-dwelling animal the Andalites called a _djabala_. Never had he morphed something as small as this.

The _hoober_'s mind jolted into Esplin's consciousness, as if he'd touched an electrically live object.

The energy! The sheer, explosive _energy!_

His hind legs sprung him through the air before he'd had a chance to consciously think about it. He jumped from leaf to tree trunk to vine to leaf, all awareness attuned to the scent of nectar.

He alit upon a flower, breathing in its scent. Finding it acceptable, he plunged his cone-shaped snout into it and sucked down the sweet liquid within. Satisfied, he hopped on in search of another one.

He leaped about like this for several minutes before noticing the undercurrent of derisive amusement that was his host's train of thought.

‹Can't manage to control a simple _hoober_ morph?› Alloran sneered. ‹You're even more weak-minded than I thought.›

The insult snapped Esplin back to his senses, and he clamped down on the _hoober_'s urge to jump.

‹I was familiarizing myself with this creature's capabilities,› Esplin retorted.

He began to resume his Andalite shape. The _hoober_ morph would serve no purpose here. Not in this remote location.

Once he was fully demorphed, he stepped back into the clearing, where he took a few minutes to nourish his host body with fresh grass. Then he took off running in the direction of the spaceport.

* * *

Back on the _Jahar_, Hekliss paced restlessly.

Iniss was currently in control of the communications panel, though both Controllers were paying close attention to the multiple streams of thought-speak, straining to pick up any mention of _Aristh_ Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul. But it was a monotonous job, and Hekliss's thoughts eventually began to wander.

For several days she'd believed both Esplin and Tarak to be dead, and she'd been sick at the thought, even as she handled the business of getting the Blade ship repaired. After all, she'd worked closely with the two of them the entire time they'd been stationed on the Taxxon world. If they were gone, that meant she was left with just Esplin secondary back on the Taxxon world, and Hekliss felt she didn't know him half as well as she once did, since his duties as a computer technician had kept him apart from the rest of the group. And the Korliss incident had only pushed them further apart … because even though Hekliss had hated seeing Esplin primary caught up in making Korliss suffer, she understood to some extent that he'd been swept up in a powerful rage, eager to force his would-be assassin through the same agonizing terror he himself had experienced.

But Esplin secondary had coldly, rationally argued in favor of torturing Korliss, and _that_ she found incomprehensible.

He was still her brother, of course, and she would have protected him every bit as fiercely as she'd protected Esplin primary. After all, she'd saved him from crashing into the Taxxon dirt at terminal velocity, hadn't she? And there was once a time when they'd been close … far closer, even, than Hekliss had been to Esplin primary, whose relentless ambition had initially distanced him from his more reserved peers. But not anymore.

Of course the sudden, inexplicable appearance of Esplin primary had brought Hekliss immeasurable relief … but with it came the confirmation that Tarak was indeed gone, and she felt his absence as her host body might have felt a missing limb. Tarak had been her fellow security guard, the one who had been helping her watch out for Esplin primary, the only one who had seemed to share Hekliss's distress at Esplin's treatment of Korliss. As much of an improvement as it was to have _both_ Esplin twins alive rather than only one, Hekliss wondered what they would do without gentle, easygoing Tarak.

Now it was just her and Esplin, plus Iniss, hiding out on a planet that swarmed with enemies. How was she supposed to protect her brother all by herself? She couldn't even go along with him on his so-called "information-gathering" excursion. Because she couldn't morph.

All she could do was trust that he was staying out of trouble …

* * *

Esplin heard the spaceport before he could see it. The roar of engines as ships took off and landed, the galloping of Andalite hooves … and he also "heard" the multitude of public announcements given in open thought-speak.

Now was the time. He slowed to a stop, then focused once again on the _hoober_, and the changes began.

This time, Esplin was prepared for the _hoober_'s excitable mind, and he easily suppressed its obsession with finding food. Instead, he propelled himself toward where the trees grew ever more sparse, until they finally opened up to reveal the spaceport itself.

Esplin had never seen so many Andalites in one place, though of course Alloran had. Alloran was quite familiar with this particular spaceport, since it was adjacent to the Andalite military academy.

And it was to the academy that Esplin headed now. It was off to one side, with a few low hills separating it from the spaceport. It was relatively slow going—an Andalite at a swift walk could easily have overtaken the _hoober_—and Esplin had already used up twenty percent of his morph time before he reached the edge of Academy territory.

The Academy itself was formed by deep interconnected valleys the Andalites had excavated between hills. The hillsides were terraced, so that deep scoops could be bored into them at intervals. At the bottom of each valley was a wide, flat grassy area, where Andalite warriors fed, trained, and practiced.

And as they came upon the first valley, Alloran was struck by a vivid memory …

* * *

Aristh _Alloran-Semitur-Corrass's stalk eyes swept back and forth as he strode resolutely through the middle of the practice field. It was only his fourth day at the Academy, and he didn't know any of the young Andalites around him who were skipping across the grass or engaging each other in playful tail-duels or standing in small groups conversing in private thought-speak._

_But he recognized the tall, lithe _aristh _who stood at the far edge of the field, looking out over the crowd._

_‹You,› Alloran called, affecting a swagger as he walked up to him. ‹What's your name?›_

_‹Feyorn-Halivan-Borsath,› said the other, eyeing him curiously._

_‹Let's tail fight, Feyorn-Halivan-Borsath,› Alloran challenged._

_‹Come on, training is over for today,› Feyorn protested. ‹I want to relax.›_

_‹No, fight me first,› Alloran insisted. ‹I saw you during combat training. I saw you block every one of old Elboron's blows, and I want to see how well you do against _me.›

_Feyorn looked amused. ‹You think you're better than Elboron? An experienced warrior who's been training _arisths_ like us for who knows how long?›_

_Alloran laughed. ‹I'm going to _get_ that good,› he said. ‹But no, I just want to see if your offense is as good as your defense. Come on. Show me what you've got.›_

_The other_ aristh_ surveyed him skeptically with one stalk eye, sizing him up. Feyorn was the taller of the two, Alloran knew, and his tail most likely reached farther as well. But Alloran was strong and compact, despite not being especially large. He thought they should be evenly matched._

_‹All right,› Feyorn said finally. ‹Let's do this.›_

_Alloran's main eyes grinned as he struck the first blow, then the second. Feyorn blocked each one in turn. In fact, he parried several blows in a row before Alloran leaped away from him, his tail lashing backward in frustration._

_‹Would you just attack me already?› Alloran yelled. ‹I know you're a good blocker! You've already proven that! Now come on and _fight!›_ He suddenly leaped to one side of Feyorn, whipping his tail toward him._

_But once again, Feyorn easily knocked Alloran's blade aside … and the tiniest grin appeared at the corner of his main eyes as he snapped his own tail, the flat of the blade catching Alloran in the side of his neck._

_Then, while Alloran was still reeling from the blow, Feyorn pivoted on his front legs and swung his tail again. This time it caught the back of Alloran's hind legs, making his rear half collapse onto the grass._

_Alloran's tail thrashed, but its base was partially pinned underneath him, limiting its range of motion. And now Feyorn was turning again, coiling the muscles in his own tail, then letting it fly …_

_This time the blade hit Alloran in his left side, right where his front legs joined his body. His arms windmilled wildly as he tumbled to the ground._

_Dazed, he gazed upward at Feyorn dumbly with his stalk eyes. ‹What in _yaolin_ was that?!›_

_‹That was a _hald-wurra_,› Feyorn said proudly. ‹Victory in three swipes. One of the first moves my brother taught me.›_

_‹Your brother taught you that?›_

_‹He's been teaching me since I was a foal.› Feyorn helped pull Alloran to his feet. ‹We practice almost every day.›_

_Alloran stared enviously. ‹My brother never practices with me. He's an intelligence advisor—he doesn't care much about tail-fighting.›_

_‹Oh.› Feyorn paused awkwardly, unsure how to reply. _

_‹Can you show me how to do a—what do you call it again? The three swipes thing?›_

‹Hald-wurra_,› Feyorn repeated. ‹Sure. This is what you do … › _

* * *

Esplin jolted himself out of Alloran's reverie. Now was definitely not the time to get caught up in his host's memories. He could only spend a limited time in the _hoober_'s body, and he still had to allow enough time to find a safe place to demorph.

He hopped along the terraces, searching for an available computer. Every scoop had at least one, but the Academy was quite a busy place, and the computers he'd seen so far were occupied. But finally, on the third level down, he found a scoop that was temporarily devoid of Andalite activity. Hopefully he could get in and get the information he needed without being interrupted.

Fortunately, Andalite computers could be controlled entirely by thought, which meant Esplin could stay in _hoober_ shape.

‹Computer: Access personnel records,› he ordered. ‹State the current status of _Aristh_ Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul.›

‹Missing in action as of 8570.359. Most recently assigned to the Dome Ship _StarSword_. Last known location: aboard fighter AF20-07752-1 under the command of War-Prince Alloran-Semitur-Corrass.›

Fighter AF20-07752-1 was the _Jahar._ Most fighters weren't given names, so the computer listed them all by numerical designation.

‹Current status of Alloran-Semitur-Corrass?›

‹Missing in action as of 8570.359. Most recently assigned to the Dome Ship _StarSword_. Last known location: aboard fighter AF20-07752-1. Anecdotal reports show that fighter AF20-07752-1 attempted to contact the Dome ship _StarSword_ near the Graysha Nebula on 8570.366, but these have been unconfirmed.›

So. Elfangor had not yet contacted the Andalite military. Or, if he had, they were keeping it quiet. Which would actually make sense, now that Esplin thought about it—the Time Matrix being such a powerful weapon, the Andalite leaders wouldn't want its presence to be common knowledge.

So how could Esplin know for sure? As he'd told Visser Two back on the Taxxon world, his host didn't have access to that kind of classified information. For a moment, Esplin wished his twin were around, for he might have been able to figure out how to bypass the Andalites' security network—

Wait.

That was it!

Yes, his _own_ brother wasn't here … but his _host's_ brother was. Arbat-Elivat-Estoni, several years Alloran's senior, the Apex Level intelligence advisor. Ostensibly retired, of course, but Arbat was still a trusted member of the War Council. If Elfangor had returned with the Time Matrix, Arbat would know.

But right now, Esplin was running low on morph time, for he needed to hop back up the terraces and all the way back to the forest before he could demorph unseen. It was rather annoying, actually. The _hoober_ morph was ideal for inconspicuously roaming about the Andalite world, but not for swift travel.

And he would have to travel a long way to find out whether Arbat knew anything useful. Arbat taught technological history at the University of Advanced Scientific Theory, which was several hundred miles away. Much farther than Esplin could run in a day, even as an Andalite.

And so, as he leaped on through the open grass, he began to formulate a plan …


End file.
